


Long Woods Trailer Park

by signifying_nothing



Category: B2ST, K-pop, VIXX, iKON (Kpop), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, First Time Sex, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, alcoholic parents, eonnie's famous crossovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5330012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>white trash au: the goings on of a trailer park and the people who live there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hongbin.

**Author's Note:**

> this has the potential to be a really big universe/story, but i didn't want to make it part of a series, as i'm really quite bad at delivering on that kind of thing without prewriting @_@. the white trash au is one of my favorite universes to write in and if you're interested or curious or have a request for this specific universe i'm always up for a listen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wonsik's always saving hongbin from something or other.

It was always dark out, when the screaming started. Hongbin figured he'd be used to it by now, his mother's banshee shrieking and his step-father's deep-voiced yell but somehow, it always made him feel very small and very helpless. He knew it was only a matter of time before that screaming came down the hall and swung open his bedroom door. It was his fault they were arguing anyway. He'd gotten into trouble at school and somehow, despite his begging the guidance counselor not to call his parents, she'd called anyway.

Shivering, breathing heavy, Hongbin shoved some essentials into his backpack. Some clothes, his phone, the tablet Wonsik had given him for Christmas when his mom bought him a new one for getting straight A's. Hopefully Wonsik was home, otherwise Hongbin was going to be spending the night on his porch with the racoons.

He jerked the window open and pushed out the screen, hefting himself through the frame. It dug painfully into his belly and thighs as his hands hit the ground, the pine needles soft and wet. He managed to get the window down just in time, dropping into a crouch as the door swung open and his mother screamed at him, shrieked his name and _where the fuck are you you piece of shit._ The front door was on the other side of the trailer and as soon as he heard it open Hongbin took off running. He knew the way to Wonsik's place, even in the dark. They'd been best friends since forever, he knew where all the big roots were, where the trees parted. 

Hongbin could have cried in relief when he saw that Wonsik's window was lit. He climbed up onto the cinderblocks and knocked out a rhythm--  _shave and a hair cut--_ and the blinds opened to show Wonsik already working the window open. Wonsik's house had new windows since last fall, so it was harder to get in, but Wonsik took the bag Hongbin offered him before helping to drag him inside. The scraping hurt Hongbin's legs and belly but he landed on the floor on his knees and hands and Wonsik took one look at him and disappeared into the hallway. 

He was so glad he didn't have to explain. Sometimes that was worse than what actually happened. Trying to explain why he flinched at loud noises or the sound of people shouting, getting made fun of for having a  _flight_ response instead of a  _fight_ response like most guys around here. 

He already had black and blues all over him, he didn't need any more. 

“Here,” Wonsik said, offering out an ice pack. “Your face.”

Hongbin collapsed cross-legged to the floor and pressed the ice pack to the left side of his face where it hurt the most. His step-father had belted him right across the cheek first thing when he got home from track practice that afternoon and it was swollen, tender to the touch. The ice pack made it sting. Wonsik looked at him with concern instead of pity and Hongbin gritted his teeth to keep from crying. 

“You gonna stay here for a few days?”

Hongbin managed a nod. 

“Lemme go tell Ma, okay?”

He nodded again. Wonsik disappeared again, and Hongbin heard the low tones of him speaking to his mother. Wonsik's mom was the best. She worked third shift as a nurse and she was everything Hongbin wanted his own mom to be. She didn't ask why he came in through the window. She didn't ask what happened. Hongin didn't know if it was because she was a nurse or because she was just a good parent but she made him feel safe. 

He'd been calling her  _mom_ for years, as though that would make it true. 

He looked up at her, when she stood in the doorway. Chubby and long-haired, with her glasses and silver cross around her neck, she waited for him to get up because she always did, opened her arms for him because she always did, let him hide the sounds of crying in her shoulder because she always did. 

“Mom,” he hiccuped, baring his teeth. 

“Shh, shh, come on,” she said, leading him down the hall to the small spare bedroom that felt more like home than his bedroom at his parents house. She sat down on the bed and let him sit sideways in her lap and cry like a fucking kid because why didn't his own mother love him this much, why did she hate him, why couldn't he have been as lucky as Wonsik was?

He cried until his eyes were swollen. She laid him down and kissed his forehead, pulled a throw blanket over him. “You stay as long as you need to,” she said, tucking back his hair. She had to leave for work, Hongbin knew that. 

“Mom,” he said, his voice rasping painfully. She looked back at him and he almost started crying again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Get some sleep.” She smiled, and Hongbin choked on a sob and nodded, pressing his face into the ice pack and hiding under the blanket. The room was warm, the heat vent blowing warm air up into the small space and the house was blissfully quiet, aside from the sound of Wonsik playing a video game out in the living room. 

Hongbin came out when the ice pack was liquid, and Wonsik looked up at him. “You hungry?” he asked, and Hongbin nodded, trying to keep his sniffle from being too loud or obvious, like Wonsik didn't know he'd just been crying his eyes out in the other room. “Want a grilled cheese?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, swallowing hard and finding a place to sit in one of the squishy, second-hand chairs. Wonsik's house was nice. It was clean and smelled good, the furniture was comfy and the lights were bright. Wonsik had a nice TV and a Playstation 3, but he'd bought those off someone moving out of the park last year. 

Wrapped in the blanket, Hongbin looked at the TV screen. Wonsik was playing  _Flower_ again. It was his favorite game. He said it was peaceful and nice, and Hongbin had to agree with him. Just the sight of all the green, and the sounds he knew came from the game it was relaxing. 

The smell of crisping butter and lightly burnt cheese brought him back to reality as Wonsik held a paper plate out in front of him. 

“Thanks,” he managed, his voice sounding like gravel. 

“No problem.”

Wonsik went back to his game, occasionally taking bites out of his own grilled cheese. Hongbin sat and listened, his eyes mostly closed. It was late, past ten, and he was getting tired. He must have dozed off, because the next time he opened his eyes Wonsik was shaking his shoulder. “C'mon, man,” he was saying. “We got school tomorrow. Go to bed.”

Hongbin nodded, slowly getting up out of the chair and toddling down to the spare bedroom. He closed the door after waving a quiet goodnight to Wonsik. He put the throw blanket over the bed in the light of the desk lamp on the coffee table that acted as a desk beside the bed. He pulled off his shirt, careful not to look at the mirror he knew hung on the back of the door. He didn't need to see what he looked like, he was sure it was bad. 

The sheets were nice and cool as he got between them, wearing his boxers and undershirt. Hongbin's fingers clenched in the blanket and his eyes squeezed closed.  _Sleep,_ he willed.  _Sleep. Sleep. Sleep._

Eventually, he managed. 

~

The next morning, after brushing his teeth and fixing his messy hair, he ran out to the bus with Wonsik. The group of them waited at the edge of the park, chattering like birds, laughing and crowing and slapping one another on the arm. 

Two of Wonsik's friends, a pair of half-siblings named Taemin and Jongin, were smart enough not to ask why it was Hongbin had come with Wonsik to the bus stop. Most people were smart enough not to ask any questions. They talked about it between themselves in hushed voices, but Hongbin couldn't bring himself to confirm or deny anything that happened. Anyone who lived on that end of the park knew for sure. Still. He appreciated it when no one brought up the bruise under his eye and across his cheek. He especially appreciated that Hakyeon didn't say anything. 

Hakyeon lived on the other end of the park, but he spent a lot of time around Hongbin's house, since he was “best friends” with Taekwoon, who lived two houses down. Hakyeon was a busybody but he meant well, and after Hongbin had refused his first offer of help--  _you can always come to my place if Wonsik isn't home, okay?_ \-- he hadn't brought it up again. Hakyeon, Hongbin knew, was poorer than any of them. He had three older sisters and had given up fighting for attention or resources a long time ago. His room in the trailer was basically his own little apartment, with a fridge and cooktop stove he'd found at a garage sale. He knew Taekwoon because their sisters were friends, and he spent a lot of time at Taekwoon's place because there was more food there, because the locks on his own bedroom door didn't stop his family from coming in and taking his things. 

If anything, Hongbin didn't want Hakyeon's help because Hakyeon was fucking pitiful and he didn't want to take advantage of his kindness. Hakyeon was too kind, always getting tricked and swindled and made fun of and Hongbin didn't want to be the kind of guy who fed into that bullshit. Someday, Hakyeon was gonna get smart, and Hongbin wanted to be able to say he'd never tried to get something out of Hakyeon for nothing. 

Taekwoon walked up to the bus stop just as the bus was coming down the road, a sleepy Jaehwan in tow. Jaehwan lived right near the front of the park, but depended on Taekwoon to make sure he was at the bus stop in the morning, because otherwise he'd sleep through his alarms and never actually get to school, since he didn't have his license. 

Jaehwan waved to Hongbin and Wonsik, smiling, eyes half-closed as Taekwoon dragged him up onto the bus and practically threw him into a seat before sitting with Hakyeon, pushing him in against the window. Hongbin sat with Wonsik, who shot the shit with Taemin and Jongin all the way to school. 

School was... School. 

Hongbin was bored through most of it, scraped by doing as little as possible except in gym and his elective photography class. He got called into the guidance office near the end of the day and gritted his teeth, squared his shoulders. 

“What happened?” the counselor asked, and Hongbin sneered. 

“What do you think,” he asked, not bothering to sit down. He had track practice after this, he wasn't going to make himself too comfortable. “I told you not to call my parents.”

“I am legally obligated to call your parents when you get into violent confrontations,” she replied, and Hongbin rolled his eyes. Violent confrontation. He and Yoongi had shoved one another, and Chansik got between them. It wasn't _that_ big a deal. And the bruise on his face was worse than the bruise on his back, was probably just as bad as whatever Yoongi got when he got home. 

“Yeah, well. Congratulations on getting me into another violent confrontation. Can I go now?”

“Hongbin--”

“What? What the fuck do you want me to say? I told you this would happen, didn't I? I told you. Leave me alone. Just stay out of my fucking business and leave me alone.” The bell rang, and Hongbin jerked his bag further up his shoulder. Thank god it was Friday. “I have practice.”

He stalked out of the guidance office to the gym, feeling like there was electricity crackling up and down his bones. He wanted to murder someone. He wanted to fucking kill someone, wanted to hit someone, wanted to fucking hurt someone like he hurt--

He shook his head, pressed his back against one of the lockers and took deep, slow breaths. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He was upset. He knew he was upset. Wonsik's mom told him he needed to figure out when he was being irrational and stop himself from doing anything stupid. He was being irrational. He was being stupid. 

The locker room was noisy, but it always was when the track and field team was getting ready for practice. It sucked that they had to practice inside, but, well. Hongbin wasn't exactly too worried about it. All he did was run. 

All he ever did was run, it seemed. 

By the time practice was over he was sweaty and exhausted. He took a quick shower before changing back into his clothes, toweling off his hair to make sure it was mostly dry for the walk home. It was only five miles, and if he jogged it wouldn't take him long, but it was cold and he didn't want to get sick. 

He yanked his denim jacket on over his hoodie and headed outside, shivering at the icy bite to the air. Maybe it was gonna snow. Jamming his hands into his pockets, Hongbin started down the road, walking, then jogging. It kept him warm as he headed down the steep hill and then over the winding road that led out to the park. The streetlights were on by the time he got there, made his way to Wonsik's place and headed inside. 

“Hey man,” Wonsik said, waving to him from the kitchen where he was frying up eggs, probably for his mom. “Want something to eat?”

“An egg would be awesome,” Hongbin replied. “I'm gonna go dry my hair.”

“Mom just got outta the shower.”

“Okay.”

Hongbin used the blow dryer in the bathroom to dry his hair, even though most of the dampness was sweat and not water, like it had been when he left school. “Hi mom,” he chirped when she walked past, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and smiling over at him. 

“Hey sweetie,” she said, heading down the hallway. Hongbin felt his chest tighten and he finished drying his hair, following her out into the living room where Wonsik was putting eggs on plates along with strips of bacon. 

“Hey, jerk, you want bacon?”

“Please,” Hongbin replied, smiling his best smile at Wonsik, who rolled his eyes. 

“Your dimples won't work on me,” he reminded. “I'm your brother.”

~

Saturdays were goof-off days, and despite the cold, Hongbin and Wonsik spent most of it outside, playing one-on-one basketball or just walking around the park, since staying inside was such a waste and Wonsik's mom slept until about four. Taekwoon and Hakyeon joined them for basketball, even though Hakyeon sucked and Wonsik made merciless fun of him for it, and even Hyunsik and Ilhoon made their way over, evening out the playing field. Ilhoon was on the basketball team, and Hyunsik was just naturally good at sports, the same way Taekwoon was. Their three-on-three ended when they were all complaining of hunger and together made the decision to walk down to the convenience store to get snacks. 

Hongbin couldn't help smiling a little when Taekwoon took Hakyeon's hand and quietly offered to buy him whatever he wanted, once they were there. Hakyeon laughed a little, but Hongbin saw his shoulders relax in relief. He'd known Hakyeon a long, long time. He'd known Hakyeon through his sexual identity crisis, he'd known Hakyeon through his denial and fear, he'd known Hakyeon through all of his self-hatred and self-proclaimed patheticness and he was glad Hakyeon had Taekwoon. Taekwoon, who fed him, who held his hand. 

“Guys! Hey guys, wait up a sec!” The sound of Taehyung's voice made them all stop and turn around. He was jogging towards them, panting a little. “Any of you guys seen Yoongi?”

“No,” Wonsik replied cooly. He and Yoongi had never gotten along, especially since Yoongi and Hongbin were always butting heads. “Why, he missing?”

“Kinda,” Taehyung replied, oblivious to the mood as always. There was something wrong with him, Hongbin was almost sure of it. Or maybe he was just really... Really fucking weird. “Okay. Thanks anyway!” He started jogging back to his house, across the street from Jaehwans. 

“Like we'd fucking know where that asshole is,” Wonsik muttered, and Hongbin snorted. “What? He's a dick, he's been a dick since we were kids, so who cares?” Hongbin cared a little bit. He and Yoongi never got on, but he knew Yoongi had seen some shit in Juvie. He hadn't been the same since he got back, which was why the two of them got into a fight, anyway. 

_What the fuck do you know, Lee Hongbin, huh? What the **fuck** do you know?!_

Idly, Hongbin thought maybe he'd go around to Yoongi's place when they got back. Who knew, maybe he was just sleeping. He'd been known to do that. Sleep for a long time. But he smiled good-naturedly at Wonsik's grumbling, amused. 

“Thanks for defending my honor~” he sing-songed, and Wonsik slapped him upside the back of the head. 

“Shut up.”

~

When Yoongi didn't show up for photography class on Monday, Hongbin started to get worried. Despite all their differences, Yoongi took photography very seriously and Hongbin admired that. He always came to class on time, always stayed after school to work on it. His pictures had that... That something Hongbin strove for, and sometimes attained. 

“Hey,” he said, cornering Taehyung after school, while they were all waiting for the bus. “Where's Yoongi?”

“I dunno, man,” he replied, chewing at his bottom lip. “I haven't seen him. No one's seen him. Not even Namjoon.” 

Hongbin nodded, walked back to Wonsik with a frown on his brow. “What's wrong,” Wonsik asked, scowling over at Taehyung, who was putting headphones in with a somewhat distant look on his face. “What's up?”

“Mm, Yoongi's still missing.”

“He probably went back to Juvie,” Wonsik said, disdain in his voice. “Fucking prick.”

“Don't be like that, man,” Hongbin replied, reshouldering his backpack so it didn't strain his back so much. “What if something's really wrong?” 

“Then he probably deserved it and I don't really care.”

“Wonsik.”

“You know I don't like him, I'm not gonna pretend to like him just to make you feel better.”

“Jerk,” Hongbin muttered, and Wonsik elbowed him carefully. 

“Don't worry about it, I'm sure he's fine. He's a badass or whatever. He's fine.”

~

Hongbin had to go home, eventually. On Wednesday he crept into the house and found his step-father gone and his mother sitting at the kitchen table, probably nursing a hangover if her hunched back was any indication. He knew she was hungover when she looked up at him and started to cry, motioning him to her, clutching him to her bony body as she whispered apologies and promises like she always did when she was sober, telling him she loved him, she was sorry, oh god she was so, so sorry. 

“It's okay, Ma,” he said, whispered as she cried into his hair as she rubbed his back and kissed his bruised eye with great tenderness. “I'm fine.”

“I'm so sorry baby,” she replied. “I'll make dinner tonight, anything you want honey, anything.”

Hongbin fought back tears. He hugged her around her waist and pretended she loved him like this all the time, like she used to before she married that asshole who hit her like Hongbin's dad used to when they still lived in that big grey house in the suburbs, before alcohol became her solace instead of art. 

“Grilled cheese and soup would be great, Ma,” he said, and she nodded, kissing his head, his forehead, his cheeks. 

“Of course, sweetie. Of course.”

“Ma?” he asked when she pulled away, her eyes and cheeks wet beneath her long, dark hair. She'd been so beautiful once. She'd been stunning, healthy and smart and glowing with love for everything, Hongbin, life, art, herself. She was a shadow of it now, shades paler than she used to be. “I love you.”

“Oh honey,” she started to cry again, clutching him close with the same strength she used to shove him into the walls or push him down to the floor, she same strength she used to slap him or beat her fists across his back. “Oh honey I love you too.”

Hongbin managed to keep from crying only until he reached his room. He collapsed against the door and slid down, hiding his face in his knees and backpack. It was only a matter of time before she forgot she'd said those things. It was only a matter of time before her face twisted in drunk rage and she screamed that she wished she'd aborted him, that he wasn't supposed to be born, that he looked so much like his useless piece of shit father. 

It was only a matter of time before she changed from his mother into a monster.

~

Yoongi and his friends were trouble, everyone knew that. Everyone knew that if there was a group of kids you didn't want to be around it was them, because they had older friends who bought them alcohol and cigarettes, they had older friends who gave them marijuana and other drugs, and they all hung out at the trailer at the far end of the left street, where there was no streetlight. 

But it had been two weeks since Yoongi had come to school and despite himself Hongbin was... Worried. He wasn't usually nosy but he'd managed to get a hold of Namjoon to ask where Yoongi was, if he was... Okay.

Namjoon had chewed his own bottom lip for a long moment before shaking his head, hands jammed down into the pockets of his third-hand jeans. 

“He's not okay?” Hongbin asked, whispered really, since the crowd of them were walking home from the bus stop and he didn't want all of their attention. It was private business and word traveled fast around here. 

“No,” Namjoon replied, his brow furrowed as he sucked his lollipop and looked like he was debating whether or not he should tell Hongbin anything. “No, he's not.”

“Where is he?”

Hongbin was sure Namjoon wasn't going to tell him anything, with the way his jaw clamped shut, but after a moment he managed to say, “He's staying with Jaehwan.”

Jaehwan?

Hongbin turned to look down the road at the group of them. Wonsik was looking curiously back at him from a respectable distance but Jaehwan was laughing, walking backwards to get away from Hakyeon, who was probably reaching out to slap him across the back of the head. 

“Why?” Namjoon asked, and Hongbin floundered for an excuse.

“There's photography homework,” he said. “I figured he might want it.”

Namjoon nodded, and started walking. “He's staying with Jaehwan.”

Yoongi had a little brother, Hongbin knew. Jihoon? He was in a foster home. Everyone knew that, because there'd been a big scene when they came to take him away. Cops and social workers and the whole nine yards as the tiny ten year old was gathered up and driven away while Yoongi's mom screamed and wailed from the porch. Yoongi had been fifteen then. But Jaehwan? As far as Hongbin knew, the two of them had never even spoken. 

He jogged to catch up with his friends, and waved Wonsik off when Jaehwan started up his own walkway. “I'll catch up,” he said, before following Jaehwan. “Jaehwan! Hey, wait up a sec.” Jaehwan turned to look at him, blinking several times. His nose was fucked up, broken twice while he was still playing soccer, but his smile was big and bright. 

“Yeah?”

“Is...” Hongbin swallowed. “Is Yoongi here?”

Jaehwan's eyes narrowed suspiciously and Hongbin swallowed, blinking back at him. Jaehwan had his shoulders squared, his neck stretched and he seemed taller, somehow. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone cold and hard. “Why?”

“Is he okay?” Hongbin asked, feeling himself shrink. Jaehwan's face seemed to soften a little. 

“...He's gonna be,” he said, pursing his lips. “Why. You wanna see him?”

“If that's okay? I have photography homework for him.”

“...C'mon in.” Jaehwan headed into the trailer and Hongbin followed after. His parents weren't home yet, judging by the lack of cars in the driveway, and the house was eerily quiet. Hongbin had never been in Jaehwan's place before. It was homey, comfortably cluttered and close. “Yoongi,” he called, heading down the hallway, holding up his hand to keep Hongbin from following. “Yoongi, you awake?”

There was some kind of noise, and a door opening. Soft talking, and Yoongi came walking down the hallway with a limp that looked painful. Hongbin swallowed as Yoongi looked at him.  _ What the fuck do you know?  _ He'd asked, and as Hongbin looked at him he figured maybe he didn't know jack shit. Yoongi looked  _ old,  _ haggard and exhausted as he leaned into the cane in his right hand, still staring at Hongbin. 

“What,” he asked, and Hongbin stiffened. 

“I, um. I've got homework for you,” he mumbled, rummaging through his backpack for his own assignment sheets. “For photography.”

“Oh.” Yoongi moved to sit down, baring his teeth like it was painful to move much and Hongbin swallowed hard, staying right where he was. “Okay.”

“Are you okay?” Hongbin blurted out, his eyes wide with fear and worry. He couldn't help it. It was like when Sanghyuk got to the bus stop wearing a sweater in August, when Hakyeon accepted everyone's lunch leftovers because there was nothing to eat at his house. Except that this might be his fault. Yoongi hadn't been to school since they'd gotten into a fight, what if he'd caused this--

“Yeah,” Yoongi replied, though Hongbin wasn't convinced. “Yeah, I'm all right. Gimme those.” He stretched out a hand for the papers and Hongbin handed them to him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I'm fine, I'm just—you haven't been to class and I thought you might--”

“Be in trouble?” Yoongi replied, smiling wryly up at Hongbin and setting aside the papers like he hadn't noticed that they had Hongbin's name on them, his notes. “Nah. I'm fine. So stop worrying your pretty little head about it, huh? You don't need to worry about me.”

“But I--”

“You don't,” Yoongi said, looking up at him. “Thanks for the assignments, but. You should probably go. I'm sure Wonsik is standing out there waiting for you like the good little brother he is.”

Hongbin nodded, that was probably true. “If, um. If you need anything--”

“I won't call you,” Yoongi replied, that wry smile back on his mouth. “I can take care of myself, Hongbin. You just worry about you, okay?”

“Okay,” Hongbin whispered, and Yoongi smiled at him, really smiled. He had too much gum for his teeth. 

“There's a good kid. Go on, scram. I'll be fine.”

Hongbin wasn't convinced, but he left anyway. He pretended not to hear Yoongi's yelp of pain, as Jaehwan carefully got him up out of the chair.

Wonsik was indeed waiting for him, head cocked. “What was that all about?” he asked, and Hongbin pursed his lips. 

“Nothing,” he said, even though he knew Wonsik wouldn't believe him. “It's nothing.”

~

Winter dropped like the eight inches of snow they got one January morning. With school cancelled, Hongbin shoveled out the walkway before making his way to Wonsik's, meeting Hakyeon halfway there. He looked a mess, shivering in his jacket, backpack on his shoulder, beanie on his head. Hongbin stopped him with a hand on his folded arms and frowned in concern when he saw that his older friend had been crying. 

“Hakyeon?” he asked, and Hakyeon shook his head. 

“Don't,” he whispered, looking weak, his lip trembling. “Don't, don't Hongbin, I just wanna go to Taekwoon's.”

“Are you okay?” Hongbin asked, knowing he was being rude, but Hakyeon looked like he'd been crying for a long time and his cheeks were red with cold and his jacket was _not_ enough to keep him warm, thinner than even Hongbin's denim and hoodie. “Hakyeon?”

“Please,” Hakyeon said, shaking his head. “Let go.”

He did as he was asked, but only after wrapping his own scarf around Hakyeon's swanish neck, giving him an awkward hug. The roads weren't plowed yet, and the two of them were standing there up to their calves in snow. “Stay warm, huh?” he said, knowing Hakyeon was wearing the only pair of shoes he had, knowing his socks were thin if he had any on at all. 

Hakyeon nodded, and continued walking. Hongbin chewed his lip, but continued to Wonsik's house, going in the front door so he could kick off his shoes and shuck off his jeans on the porch before walking inside. 

“Who are you, showing up at my house half-naked,” Wonsik laughed from where he sat in the living room. 

“You want me walking in here with my wet pants?” Hongbin asked, draping his jeans over the railing in the foyer to drip until the snow was melted enough to put them in the dryer. “I didn't think so.”

“Yeah, yeah. How's it goin?”

“It goes,” Hongbin replied, helping himself to a pair of Wonsik's pajama bottoms before sitting on the couch beside his friend. “Whatcha doing?”

“Watching a movie,” Wonsik replied, reclining into the couch. “You joining?”

“Uh huh.”

The two of them waste away the day watching movies and playing video games until Wonsik's mom left for work and the two of them were left alone. Wonsik grinned in Hongbin's direction. 

“I got some porn,” he said, and Hongbin rolled his eyes. “Wanna watch?”

“Fucking gross, man,” he said, but he didn't protest when Wonsik got up to find said movie and put it in the playstation. It wasn't the first time the two of them watched porn together, but usually the two of them get themselves off in separate rooms, “excusing” themselves to take care of their erections in privacy. But in the living room, with the curtains closed and the door locked, Wonsik licked his lips and Hongbin swallowed hard at the words that came out of his mouth. 

“Wanna handjob?”

“You offering?” Hongbin asked, and Wonsik snorted. 

“No, I'm asking the other dude in the room,” he said, and Hongbin barked out a laugh. “Seriously though.”

Hongbin sucked at his bottom lip, looked at the screen instead of Wonsik, because Wonsik wasn't looking at him, either. “...Yeah,” he said, trying not to squirm. “Yeah, okay.” He wiggled out of his pajama bottoms and boxers, already half-hard and he glanced over to see Wonsik in much the same state. Hongbin felt his belly tense and carefully let his fingers trail over the top of Wonsik's bare thigh, feeling the soft hair on his legs. 

“You gonna do me too?” Wonsik asked, and Hongbin nodded, licking his lips. 

“S'fair, right?”

“Yeah,” Wonsik said, and Hongbin slouched back, tensed up when Wonsik's warm hand spread on his thigh. For a few minutes the two of them just touched one another, watching the man on screen fuck into the squirming, moaning woman beneath him, and Wonsik touched Hongbin first, carefully wrapping his fingers around the girth of his cock. Wonsik's hands were strong and rough and Hongbin gasped, hips jumping up at the contact while Wonsik laughed, breathless. “Wow, Hongbin,” he said, pumping his hand up and down. “You always that easy?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hongbin panted, wrapping his hand around Wonsik's dick and jerking to the sound of a bit-back grunt, Wonsik's hips straining up. “You're one to fucking talk.” For a couple of minutes the two of them just stroke one another, figuring out what felt good and what felt fucking amazing while the couple onscreen switched positions and suddenly the man's cock was in the woman's ass, big and deep, balls-deep. Wonsik groaned, tipping his head back. 

“You into that,” Hongbin whispered, squeezing gently. “Assfucking? Have you ever done it?” Wonsik bared his teeth and pushed up into Hongbin's hand. 

“Nah,” he panted, his grip on Hongbin's cock loosening and tightening, his breathing ragged. “You?”

“Sorta,” Hongbin said, and it wasn't a lie. He and Chansik had done something like that once, after a party at Chansik's house. Chansik had sucked him off and pushed a finger into his ass and Hongbin saw fucking stars, if he was honest. He'd never cum so fast in his _life._ “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” Wonsik tilted his head to the side and Hongbin looked over at him, looked at the veins standing out on his neck and his bared teeth. 

“Wonsik,” he said, and Wonsik opened his eyes, the two of them looked at one another for a long moment. “Wonsik. Lemme try something.”

“Okay,” he said, and Hongbin got up, legs weak, pulling one leg out of his clothes before licking his lips and moving to straddle Wonsik's thighs, looking down as he used his hand to press their cocks together, lined their groins up and groaned, rolled his hips forward and down. “Fuck,” Wonsik hissed, hands grabbing Hongbin's hips out of instinct, jerking up against him. “Hold fuck.”

“Feels good,” Hongbin breathed, planting his hands on the back of the couch and looking down at Wonsik, spreading his knees to make it easier to move. “Uhnholyfuck.” For a few long minutes that was all Hongbin did, roll down against him to the sounds of the sex on the television, to the music of Wonsik grunting beneath him, holding him down. “Grab--” Hongbin blushed, bent down to be able to whisper, because he didn't think he'd be able to speak while looking at Wonsik, his best friend, his brother. “Grab my ass,” he said, listening to Wonsik moan and feeling him do as he was told, cupping his backside and using that grip to rock their groins together. “Nnfuck, yeah like that... Fuck, Wonsik.” 

“Hongbin,” Wonsik breathed, panting against his neck, his lips just barely touching the soft, pale skin. Hongbin felt his cock throb. “Hongbin.”

“Kiss my neck,” he demanded, tipping his head back and grabbing Wonsik by the hair, holding him where he wanted him. “Kiss m-aaah, yeah, yes... Wonsik, _yes,_ ” he rolled his hips down harder as Wonsik obediently sucked at his throat, kissed his jaw and squeezed his ass. “Aah fuck yeah, mm.” Hongbin reached one hand to grab Wonsiks, dragging it up to his mouth to suck his finger, soft suckling sounds right next to Wonsik's ear that made him grunt and drag Hongbin down harder against him, made him bite Hongbin's neck. “Wonsik,” he moaned, fucking _moaned_ into his best friend's ear. “Put your finger in me.”

Wonsik swallowed and kissed Hongbin's adams apple, moved to the other side of his neck as he did as he was told, holding one cheek out of the way as his finger searched for Hongbin's hole and slowly, carefully pushed inside.

Hongbin gave a moan that turned into something else entirely, pushing down against his hand and then forward into his cock. “Aah, fuck yeah, fuck me with it, Wonsik, fuck my hole, uhn.” Wonsik was grunting, holding Hongbin down against him as he pulled his finger out and pushed it in, as he bit at Hongbin's neck. 

“Ung _wonsik,_ ” Hongbin grunted as he blew his load all over Wonsik's belly, surprised to feel Wonsik yanking him down and coming , pressing his finger in as far as it would go whispering _hongbin, hongbin oh fuck hongbin yes yes_ _ **fuck**_

Hongbin gave a shivery little moan and trembled as Wonsik's hips went back down to the couch and his finger slipped out to let him hold Hongbin's thighs. 

For a few long minutes the two of them panted, not looking at one another, not looking at the sex on screen. When Hongbin pulled back, Wonsik was blushed and biting his bottom lip so hard it looked painful. “What,” he asked, staying right where he was, despite the cum growing cool and sticky between them. “Wonsik, what.”

“Felt good,” he said, looking up at Hongbin. He looked so nervous, so afraid. Hongbin couldn't fathom why. It felt good for both of them, they'd enjoyed it, hadn't they? He bent down and, after a moment of thinking about it, kissed Wonsik on the mouth like he'd once kissed Youngji, the pretty girl down the road. He used his tongue and teeth and dominated the kiss while Wonsik took what he was given and mewled happily for it. 

“Felt so fucking good,” Honebin said as he pulled away. “Fuck.”

“...we gotta shower,” Wonsik said, and Hongbin laughed so hard his dimples showed. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, carefully getting up, looking down at his groin. “Yeah, I guess we do, huh?”

~

Wonsik acted weird about it, and Hongbin didn't get it. Hongbin didn't get what was so weird about the two of them getting one another off, and Wonsik always shied away from it before giving in. It kind of made Hongbin feel like he was forcing Wonsik into something and he didn't like that at all. They went to school like usual, talked shit like usual, hung out with their friends like usual but when the two of them were alone something was different. 

“Wonsik,” Hongbin said, frowning over at his best friend where he sat on the couch, squinting down at his homework. 

“What,” Wonsik asked, blinking over at him. 

“Why are you acting weird about us fucking?”

They hadn't even fucked, not really. Not the kind of sex people were always joking about. They'd given each other handjobs, blowjobs, they'd pinned one another to walls and ground together until they were coming but they'd never had  _ sex.  _ Hongbin wanted to have sex with Wonsik. He didn't see what the problem was. 

“I'm not,” Wonsik spluttered, and Hongbin cocked his eyebrow so high it almost met his hairline. 

“Someone get me a shovel, the shit's getting deep in here.”

“Shut up,” Wonsik said, blushing intensely. “I am not acting weird.”

“Yeah you are,” Hongbin said, unable to keep himself from scowling. “You always act like you don't want to and then you want to and then you're all embarrassed after, why?”

“I do _not,_ ” Wonsik hissed, and Hongbin growled under his breath. 

“What is your problem.”

“ _Nothing,_ ” Wonsik attempted to stalk down the hall to his bedroom but Hongbin grabbed him by the beltloops and pinned him chest to the wall, mouth close to his ear. 

“C'mon, Wonsik. Tell me. What is it. Do you want to fuck me, is that it? Do you want to put your dick in me?”

“No,” Wonsik said, struggling, hands against the wall. “Hongbin--”

“What is it then,” Hongbin demanded, pinning him harder, lips brushing his ear. “Tell me the truth, Wonsik. Tell me the fucking truth.”

“I,” Wonsik started, gritting his teeth before he arched his back and pressed his ass into Hongbin's groin, holding himself there. “I want you to put your dick in _me._ ”

Hongbin's head spun for a moment. What? Wonsik wanted what? But the idea was so-- oh god, so good. Holding Wonsik down, pressing inside of him, kissing his neck and his mouth and listening to him whimper like a bitch, oh  _ fuck-- _

“You should have said,” Hongbin murmured, rocking his hips forward. “Yeah. Yeah I'll fuck you, Wonsik. Is that what you want? Me to fuck you?”

“Yeah,” Wonsik was panting, moving his ass back on Hongbin's groin. “Yeah, I want it, fuck, Hongbin, I _want you._ ”

Hongbin shivered, kissed Wonsik's gold neck and pulled him away from the wall. “Your room,” he breathed, still holding Wonsik's beltloops. “Now.” Wonsik walked them that way and Hongbin let go only when Wonsik wiggled, pulling his shirt over his head and unbuttoning his fly. Hongbin did the same, unbelievably eager, shivering with anticipation as he closed the door and locked it, like they had to worry about someone coming in. 

Wonsik was fucking glorious nude. Hongbin took him in as he turned around, all hard muscle, wire-tight and soft-skinned. He was tan now, since it was early summer, and he'd dyed his hair back to black for a cousins wedding, so he looked completely natural. “Fuck,” Hongbin whispered, reaching out to touch Wonsik's bare chest, to circle a nipple with his fingers. “I want you.” 

It occurred to Hongbin, as he pushed Wonsik down to the bed and crawled between his legs to kiss his neck, that he had no idea how to go about... Having sex properly. He knew the principles, he knew... Basically how it was done but he didn't want to  _ hurt  _ Wonsik, didn't want him to hate him or something. “I don't,” he started, groaning when Wonsik kissed his neck, when he spread his thighs wider so Hongbin fell harder against him. “Uhn I don't know if--”

“I do,” Wonsik said, and Hongbin felt a flare of heat go straight to his groin as Wonsik reached up into his headboard and pulled down a bottle of lubricant and a long, slim vibrator. “I, um. I've.”

Oh  _ fuck. _

“You've fucked yourself with it,” Hongbin whispered, and Wonsik nodded, cheeks flushed. “Oh my _fucking god,_ Wonsik. That's so fucking hot. Do it, I want to see.”

“But--”

“I wanna watch you fuck yourself, please, Wonsik, I want to watch you get ready.”

Wonsik's cheeks blushed rosy but he nodded and Hongbin moved back, reached to hold his thighs open when Wonsik covered the vibrator with lubricant and moved it down between his legs. “Oh my god,” Hongbin whispered, watching as Wonsik shifted his hips up and then down, sliding his hole against the plastic a couple of times before he pushed it into himself with a thready groan, his legs shaking. He pushed it all the way in, dropped his hips to the bed and used his fingers to hold it in, squirming, rocking his hips. His cock was so hard it was leaking on his belly. 

“Turn it on,” he whispered, looking up at Hongbin. “Turn it on, fuck--”

Hongbin reached to twist the bottom of the toy and watched in heated fascination as Wonsik practically arched up from the bed, fingers holding the toy in place, his balls drawn up tight. “Oh fuck,” he panted, fucking himself with it, watching Hongbin watching him, lips parted. “Oh fuck, Hongbin, shit, feels so good.” 

“Let me,” Hongbin said, reaching to hold the base of the vibrator and carefully drawing it out, pushing it back inside and watching Wonsik squirm, listening to him yelp and the wet sounds of his body moving up and down, his feet planted on the bed. “Oh my god, Wonsik. So fucking hot.”

“Want you,” Wonsik groaned, fucking himself down on the toy, up into nothing. “God Hongbin I want you to fuck me, please. Please.” Hongbin grabbed for the lubricant-- _sex grease,_ it was called, and he barely held back a giggle-- and squirted it over his cock, stroking to spread it, moaning softly. Wonsik let the vibrator fall from his body to the bed and Hongbin grabbed it, turned it off and threw it to the floor. He got closer to Wonsik, cupped his ass and stroked his wet thumb over the soft, swollen flesh. 

“Fuck,” he managed, getting closer between Wonsik's legs and pushing his tip against the relaxed muscle, feeling Wonsik shudder. “You sure, Wonsik, are you sure--”

“Yeah,” he panted, nodding. “Yeah, I'm sure, Hongbin, fuck--” 

Hongbin started to push in, fingers guiding his cock. Wonsik was  _ tight,  _ his muscles all standing in sharp relief as he held his breath, straining up like his body wasn't ready. Hongbin stopped, panting. “Hey,” he asked, stroking Wonsik's erection. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Wonsik breathed. “Burns.”

“Want me to stop?”

“No,” he said, slowly relaxing back to the bed. “No don't stop.”

Hongbin licked his lips and nodded, waiting until Wonsik had relaxed enough for him to push in a little more. He repeated the process until he was buried balls-deep like that man had been in that woman in the porn they watched and Hongbin realized that what had turned Wonsik on wasn't the idea of being the man, but the idea of being the woman-- being the one held down, spread open, invaded so intimately. 

“Wonsik?” Hongbin whispered, bending down, chest tight. “Wonsik.”

“Y-yeah,” he replied, blushed, trembling, bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead. “Hongbin, nn.”

“Feels so good,” he said, pushing back Wonsik's hair, looking down at him, eyes darting all over his face and chest. “Feels so good inside you, Wonsik. So fucking close.”

“Hongbin.” It was a weak sound, the way Wonsik said his name. He closed his eyes and bent down to kiss Wonsik on the mouth, licking at his lips, pushing back his hair while rocking his hips forward. Wonsik gasped and Hongbin moaned. 

“Wonsik. Wonsik, fuck. It feels so good, you feel so good, oh my god.”

“Move,” Wonsik whispered. “Move, Hongbin, fuck me, please.”

Hongbin pulled back slow, pushed in slow. He fucked Wonsik slow until he demanded more, squirting more lubricant between them to fuck him faster, harder. Wonsik was groaning, twisting his body and arching up, pulling at the bedsheets and raking his blunt nails down Hongbin's sides. He moaned when Hongbin grabbed his cock and started to stroke, hard and slow. 

“Cum for me,” Hongbin breathed into his ear, rocking into him shallow and fast. “God, Wonsik, cum, I wanna feel, I wanna _see--_ ”

“ _Hongbin_ \--” 

Wonsik jerked up, his ass clenching and his thighs snapping apart, his head thrown back as he came, fuck he came, cum splattered up his belly and chest. His neck was veiny and blushed, his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth bared and he was fucking beautiful, he was so fucking beautiful and Hongbin wondered how he'd never really seen it before. Wonsik had always been handsome, but now. Now he looked...

Hongbin toppled right after him, pushing hard into him, panting, grabbing his hair and demanding a kiss, sucking and biting at his lips until Wonsik was whimpering, shivering violently. 

Hongbin grunted as he pulled out, the sloppy sound making him wince as Wonsik squirmed. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Wonsik, that. That was fucking. Amazing.”

“Mm,” Wonsik said, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes closed. 

“Are you okay?” Hongbin asked, sitting up, eyes bright with worry. “Wonsik are you okay, did I hurt you?”

“Stings,” he replied, and Hongbin reached to push his hair back, kissing his cheek. “M'okay.”

“You sure?” he asked, and Wonsik nodded. 

“Mm. Just wanna. Lay here a while.”

“Yeah,” Hongbin nodded, grabbing for the throw blanket bunched up against the wall, tossing it over their bodies. He leaned in to kiss Wonsik, sucked at his lips and kissed his neck, his jaw and cheeks and wondered, again, how it was he'd never noticed how beautiful Wonsik was. “Wonsik.”

“Mm?”

“...Are we gay?”

“Mmm. I guess?” Wonsik shrugged. “I dunno. I really like _you,_ Hongbin.”

“So... You wouldn't let anyone else do this but me?”

“Nah.”

Hongbin felt his heart squeeze, just a little bit. He planted a firm kiss on Wonsik's mouth, ignoring the way he spluttered in confusion. 

“So you're my boyfriend, then.”

“...Yeah, I guess.” Wonsik looked over at him. “That's okay with you, right?”

“Mmhm.”

Hongbin smiled, dimpled, and laid down beside Wonsik, closed his eyes. They were gross, smelled like sweat and cum but Wonsik's bed was warm and his heartbeat was steady, and Hongbin thought it would be nice, to stay like this for a while. To ignore the rest of the world around him and just think about  _ Wonsik,  _ his best friend, his boyfriend, who protected him from the things that hurt him and hugged him tight, who looked like an angel spread out beneath him when he came, Hongbin's name on his mouth. 

Hongbin could ignore the world for a while. 

As long as he and Wonsik could stay like this.

 


	2. Yoongi.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so min yoongi's kind of... falling in love with lee jaehwan. shit.

Yoongi knew he was in deep shit when he walked through the flimsy screen door of the trailer and his uncle was waiting for him. The man was big, broad and tall. He outweighed Yoongi by twice his weight and he had a mean streak a mile wide. It was a miracle Yoongi and his mother were allowed to live in the house, honestly. He supposed he should be grateful for the roof over their heads, even though it was awful.

“You delinquent piece of shit.”

“Yeah, that's me,” Yoongi replied, shoving off his backpack. “So what.”

“Don't you fucking mouth off to me,” his uncle snarled, reaching out to grab Yoongi by the hair, slam him bodily into the kitchen counter. It knocked all the wind out of him, left him breathless and gasping. “First you get sent to fucking juvie and now you're getting into fights in school? What the fuck is your problem, huh?”

“Maybe I'm just-- just doing what I know,” he gasped, grinning up at his uncle. The man sneered and dragged Yoongi away from the counter, slammed his head into the coffee table when he struggled and clawed at his wrist. It seemed more brutal than usual. Most of the time he just slapped him around, maybe tossed him in the closet until his mom got home but his big fist was tight and for the first time in a long time, Yoongi was afraid. “Let go of me,” he slurred, head spinning. “Let _go._ ”

“You shut the fuck up,” he said, and Yoongi thrashed and kicked all the way down the hallway to the closet. The closet beside the dryer had nothing in it's bottom half, because it was where his uncle had been throwing him for being a disobedient little shit for years. When Jihoon had been taken away to foster care, Yoongi had made sure not to say anything about it. His mother had been devastated that her youngest son was being stolen from her, and Yoongi knew he was poor consolation, but the only reason he'd called was to make sure Jihoon got put somewhere safe. It wasn't that their mom didn't love him. She loved Yoongi, too, but their uncle was dangerous. He was a fucking psychopath and sometimes Yoongi wouldn't put it past him to hurt Jihoon just because he could. Jihoon was a fucking kid. Ten years old-- twelve, now, wherever he was-- and the last thing Yoongi wanted was for him to be exposed to... To this.

And Yoongi's mom had no clue. She really had no idea what went on when she wasn't around, when she was at work or seeing her new boyfriend or on her visiting hours to see Jihoon every other weekend. She was sure her brother, a CPA with a steady job and a nice car, was a decent guy. That was why they lived with him, because Yoongi's dad was a piece of shit and his uncle had offered to take them in.

“Let go, let go of me-- Let go! Fuck you, let go you sadistic piece of shit--”

Yoongi's head hit the bookshelf with so much force he actually blacked out for a moment, head spinning. He whimpered in pain, tried to pull at the sleeves of his uncle's suit jacket and found himself thrown into the bottom half of the closet. He jerked his leg out straight to try and keep the door open.

But the door slammed, and slammed, and slammed, and finally his uncle kicked Yoongi's knee with his steel-toed boot and Yoongi felt something crack before he shouted in pain, unable to stop his tears. The kick came again to his hip and Yoongi screamed.

“You fucking stay in there until I say you can come out,” his uncle hissed, and Yoongi panted, sobbed, frantically reached to hold his hip, his knee, the muscles spasming and his heart pounding so hard he could barely hear anything but it's terrified running.

The closet door locked.

~

Yoongi lost track a long time ago, of how many times he'd been thrown around and hurt. He was an easy target when he was a kid, being so short and skinny. He didn't have a lot of friends because he was suspicious and reserved, and none of that had changed. Not when they moved to the trailer park, not when he'd been sent to juvie for assaulting another kid (for attempting to assault his brother) and not just then, as he shivered and sobbed quietly in the closet, his entire left side on fire, his hip aching, his knee numb.

He waited until he heard his uncle's car start and pull out of the driveway before he pulled out his phone. He'd never been so glad to have left something in his pocket. Hand shaking, he checked his texts. His mother was staying at her new boyfriends place for a couple of days, again. She ended her text with a smiley and a heart, and Yoongi did the same. Reassuring her had to come first. She had to think he was okay.

_no prob mom, have a good time! don't do anything i wouldn't do~_

Then he used his shaking hand to press the second number on his speed dial.

He had no right having a friend like Lee Jaehwan. He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve him, honestly. Jaehwan was funny, compassionate, caring and understanding. Yoongi liked him because he always seemed to know what to do to help him feel better, even though they never really hung out at school, or where anyone else could see them. He didn't like bringing attention to himself like that. Better that people think he was only friends with the “bad” crowd so he didn't taint Jaehwan's reputation as a human ball of sunshine, though Jaehwan never seemed to understand what the big deal was.

The phone rang four times before Jaehwan answered.

“Yoongi! What's up, what can I do for you?”

“Where are you,” he asked, unable to stop how choked he sounded, how thick with tears his voice was.

“...What's wrong, Yoongi? Where are you?” Jaehwan said, his voice tight and hard. Yoongi could hear him moving, clothes rustling, keys getting lifted. His fucking prince charming, coming to his rescue.

“In the... In the closet,” he panted, tears squeezed from his eyes. “I think. I think I broke something.”

“Hold on, hold on, I'll be right there, okay, don't move.”

“I can't,” Yoongi tried to laugh but it came out a sob. A few minutes later he heard the front door being unlocked, heard Jaehwan's voice calling out.

“Yoongi?! Yoongi, I'm here, I'm here--” Jaehwan messed with the bolt lock for a moment before it came loose and Yoongi all but spilled out onto the floor, crying and biting his forearm to keep from wailing in pain. “Oh jesus, oh jesus fuck,” Jaehwan grabbed for him, held still when Yoongi screamed at the shift of his weight. “Oh god, what happened?”

“Help,” Yoongi whispered, clutching his hand in Jaehwan's shirt. “Help, please--”

“You gotta go to a hospital, Yoongi, oh my god, your leg--”

“No! No, no fuck please just get me out of here please Jaehwan--”

“Okay,” Jaehwan's eyes had never been so wide, Yoongi was sure. “Okay, okay, hold on, I'll-- it's gonna hurt, I'm gonna lift you--”

Yoongi screamed into his hand as Jaehwan did just that, hefted his weight up and cradled him, uninjured side against his chest. He thought he might pass out.

~

When he woke up again, Yoongi was on Jaehwan's bed, while Jaehwan folded laundry like it was his job, staring at the ironing board and the neat piles on it like his gaze would set it on fire. Yoongi's hip felt... Slightly less awful, and his leg was stiff.

“Jaehwan?” he asked, voice raspy.

“Hey,” Jaehwan turned, knelt beside the bed and looked at him. “Hey, Yoongi, how are you? How are you feeling?”

“...Like shit,” he replied, trying to sit up and failing.

“Don't,” Jaehwan said. “Don't even. I got your knee back in place but I don't know about your hip, it's so fucking bruised and swollen, I can't.”

“Don't,” Yoongi said, letting out a sigh. “S'okay, Jaehwan. Just hurts.”

“I'm gonna call the fucking protective services, I swear,” he said, not for the first time. Yoongi smiled a little, touched that Jaehwan would get so in an uproar over him. “I'm gonna fucking cut all his goddamn tires and-- and piss on his front seat, that's what.”

“Mm, my hero,” Yoongi laughed weakly. “S'okay.”

“No it's _not,_ ” Jaehwan insisted, looking up at him, his eyes red. He always got so upset, whenever something like this happened. Yoongi knew it was because Jaehwan had a relatively happy family life, aside from his grandmother, who hated him for whatever reason, but he didn't really care about her. Yoongi knew Jaehwan didn't understand, _couldn't_ understand, and that was okay. Really, he just wanted to assure him, because the fire in his eyes was misplaced. It wasn't going to do any good to hate his uncle. All Yoongi could do was focus on getting better.

Still, Jaehwan's righteous anger warmed him, a little. “It's not okay, it's not, don't say that it is! It's fucked up! He's _abusing you._ ”

“I can take it,” Yoongi replied, and Jaehwan dropped his head, pressed his face into his hand.

“That's not the point, Yoongi. You shouldn't _have to._ ”

~

Jaehwan's parents were more than understanding. They didn't know what to do about Yoongi's situation, if there was anything they could do at all, but they let Yoongi stay because Jaehwan begged them to, because Jaehwan never asked for anything. Yoongi knew that. He knew Jaehwan never asked for anything, not favors, not help, not money or anything else.

Yoongi spent the next three weeks living in Jaehwan's house. His mom only came home to his uncle's to get new clothes or pick up her things for another night at her boyfriends house, so he didn't have to worry too much about that, and as long as Jaehwan kept mum about where he was Yoongi didn't have to worry about his uncle finding him. He was hiding in plain sight. The visit from Hongbin was a surprise-- he was surprised Hongbin would worry about him-- but aside from that he was allowed the time to heal up, at least a little.

His leg was still bothering him when he went back to school, making some excuse to the guidance counselor and waving off the nurse when he expressed concern about Yoongi's limp. But Yoongi's friends seemed glad to see him. Hoseok was beside himself, and Jimin practically vibrated with excitement. Namjoon was just relieved. Taehyung was the only one who didn't seem one hundred percent thrilled to see him, though Yoongi knew that was just... How Taehyung was, that was all.

They were glad to see him, and he was glad to see them. Though he could have done without all of the, _old man limp_ jokes.

~

“I have to go back to my house eventually,” Yoongi said, one quiet evening while Jaehwan attempted Calculus homework with a frustrated frown on his face.

“No you don't,” he replied automatically. “And you won't.”

“You can't stop me,” Yoongi said.

“Oh, you'll find that I can,” Jaehwan said, looking up from his homework to level a very serious look in Yoongi's direction. Yoongi blinked back at him, somewhat shocked at the expression. Jaehwan was rarely ever so serious; he, like Hoseok, was made of sunshine and all that was good in the world so it seemed wrong for that expression to be on his beautiful face.

Wait. What?

“I can't stay here forever,” Yoongi said. “I mean, I know you love my beautiful face and everything, but you've gotta let me leave some time, Jaehwan.”

“I know,” Jaehwan replied, looking back down at his chickenscratch math problems. “I'd just. Prefer you took your time with it.”

Yoongi regarded him curiously, idly working on his own English homework. Jaehwan had never really seemed... Supremely invested in their friendship, even though they'd been friends for a long time. It had been strange, walking home with him from the bus stop and listening to the others start talking amongst themselves while Hongbin tried in vain to get them to shut up and mind their own business. It was strange, waking up on the cot in Jaehwan's somewhat large bedroom, the mattress pad keeping him comfortable all through the night. It was strange to watch Jaehwan's face, soft with sleep, and wonder what it would be like to kiss his fat lips.

Yoongi shook his head and got back to work. He could daydream about Jaehwan's blowjob lips some other time, for Christsakes. He had more important things to worry about, like what he was going to tell his mom about where he'd been sleeping for the last month.

~

“I've been staying at Jaehwan's,” he told her, kicking his legs idly, the left almost well enough that it didn't twinge when he did so. “We're in a lot of the same classes and we end up studying really late, so I just stay there. Besides, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't make it to school if I didn't get him up in the mornings.”

“I see,” she replied, crossing her legs and smiling at him. “Are you sure it's not for other reasons?”

“ _Mom,_ ” Yoongi groaned, and she laughed.

“I'm teasing,” she replied. “Come on now, have a sense of humor. Anyway, I have good news for you.”

“What news is that?”

“We're moving out of my brother's house.”

Yoongi felt time stop.

“Wh. What?”

“We're moving out of my brother's house,” she repeated, smiling brightly. “Daewon... Proposed to me, Yoongi, we're getting married, and I...” she sighed, and it was the kind of sigh laced with happiness and relief. Yoongi had been so sure he'd never hear his mother make a sound like that again. “And I want you to be able to have your own space, and...”

“But,” Yoongi started, trying not to gawp like a fish. “But, my friends--”

“You'll still be going to your school, sweetheart,” she said, reaching to tuck back a curl of his mint blue hair. “I wouldn't transfer you in the middle of your junior year.”

“But-- But Jaehwan--”

“What about him?” she asked, and Yoongi felt his heart clench down hard. What about Jaehwan? What about Jaehwan, and his stupid bedhead, and the way he sang to himself when they got ready for school, and how he liked his coffee in the morning with no cream but lots of sugar, and how he still fussed over Yoongi's hip and threatened Yoongi's uncle and laughed with his eyes and smiled his good nights and--

“I can't...”

His mother's gaze softened and Yoongi felt exposed, so fucking exposed. He jerked back in the seat and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the floor.

“Yoongi,” she said. “If you want to stay with Jaehwan, that's fine, I won't tell you that you can't. I just want you to know that the option is there for you, okay? I want you to be happy, sweetheart. And Jaehwan's always made you happy.”

“He has not,” Yoongi muttered, and she laughed.

“You can lie to your friends, sweetie, and I'll lie to mine, but lets not lie to each other.” She reached out and _bopped_ the end of his blunt nose.

~

Okay. Okay so, in theory, if Yoongi was gay, watching dudes make out would turn him on, right?

At least, that was the excuse he made, sitting on his cot with his back to the wall, his tablet in his hands and his earbuds in as he watched-- watched two dudes make out. They were a real couple, they'd said at the beginning of the filming, and Yoongi could believe that, judging by the way they were kissing, slow and... And hot, with lots of touching. And sounds.

Yoongi was pretty sure it was the sounds, more than the visuals, that were getting him hard and squirmy where he sat, hoping Jaehwan didn't come in from his shower too soon. He swallowed hard and watched the men grab at one another with firm hands, watched one drag the other up his thigh and suck at his neck, while the lighter man laughed and fisted his hands in his hair, moving him how he wanted to.

Yoongi'd never really watched gay porn before. Porn in general was so... Fucking fake, he wasn't sure how people found it arousing but then there were sites like this one, that took real couples and filmed them and that... That was appealing.

Yoongi pressed his fingertips over his lips and squirmed, pulling a blanket over his lap to make sure the bulge in his sweatpants didn't ruin his best friendship forever. He didn't even know if Jaehwan was into dudes.

But, Yoongi decided, as Jaehwan came into the room in nothing but his towel to grab his clothes, grinning at Yoongi as he did so: But Yoongi could be into dudes. Especially dudes like Jaehwan.

~

Yoongi liked Daewon immediately.

His mom insisted he go out to dinner with the two of them and, after much hemming and hawing, Yoongi let Jaehwan put him in a button-down and nice jeans. _There,_ he'd said, sitting back and smiling. _You look like a model._

_I'm too short to be a model._

_That's not the point Min Yoongi. Don't argue the semantics when I'm trying to say you look good! God!_

Yoongi smiled a little at the memory, observing Daewon and how the man treated his mother. He was a stout guy, with a well-kept beard. He was nicely groomed. He had a firm handshake and an almost Santa-Claus like smile, all red cheeks and white teeth. He was a college professor, tenured at one of the community colleges outside the city, and he specialized in sociology and ethics.

He treated Yoongi's mom like a princess.

Yoongi felt the tight spring in his chest unwinding as his mother and Daewon laughed over stories and engaged Yoongi in conversation, was genuinely interested in him and didn't seem to care that he had a... Bad reputation. If anything, that seemed to make him warm up to Yoongi even more.

“I spent my fair share in trouble when I was your age,” he assured. “And I don't believe for a second that it's a bad reflection on your character.”

“Uh, thanks,” Yoongi said, feeling awkward. His mother reached to squeeze his hand and he squeezed back, offering her a smile.

She was gonna be okay, with Daewon. Maybe Jihoon would be able to come home.

~

“My moms getting married,” he said, laying down on Jaehwan's bed while Jaehwan read comic books and hummed to himself.

“Oh, to the guy you went out to dinner with?”

“Yeah.”

“Was he a nice guy?”

“Yeah. Really nice. She was really happy.”

“Then it's good, right?” Jaehwan looked down at him and Yoongi nodded, wiggling to press his face to his best friend's thigh. “What is it.”

“She wants me to move in with them.”

“Where?”

“He lives out by the college. His house is paid for and stuff. Mom said she's gonna try and get Jihoon home.”

“...That's good too, right?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi said, his throat tight and his jaw clenching. “Yeah, it is.”

~

“Yeah, I know about that stuff,” Taehyung said, blinking at Yoongi. “Why, you want to?”

“I ju. Maybe? I don't know I just wanna know if I'm into it or not and I know you...” have done it before, was what Yoongi wanted to say, but didn't. Taehyung nodded, catching his meaning regardless.

“Oh, well. I mean if that's what you want sure, you can come over and we can do that.”

Yoongi somehow felt like it was all entirely too casual, making plans to go to Taehyung's after school and basically suck one another's dicks until Yoongi figures out if he's _really_ into that or if sounds during sex just get him off. But Taehyung was the only one among their friends who was, it seemed, entirely free with his body-- boys, girls, he didn't seem to care who he had sex with, though he insisted on wearing condoms and shit.

“...Yeah. Yeah, okay. Just don't--”

“I won't,” Taehyung smiled, and put his headphones back in, turning out to the landscape beyond the bus window and Yoongi wondered, for the millionth time, how it was possible for a person to be so fucking _weird._

But he followed Taehyung home. Jaehwan had stayed after for choir and was catching a ride with Taekwoon, so he wouldn't be home for a couple of hours, anyway. Yoongi wanted to be home by the time Jaehwan got there, so he didn't worry. But Taehyung's house wasn't far, and the boy himself had a fast gait, walking to the beat of whatever he was listening to.

His trailer was a faded yellow, and the porch had definitely seen better days. Yoongi knew Taehyung's grandma sat out there in her wheelchair when the weather was nice, waved at the kids going by like she had since Yoongi could remember, and she was sitting in the living room when they went inside.

“Hi Grammie,” Taehyung said, setting down his bag, bending to kiss her cheek. She smiled up at him and pet his hair, waved to Yoongi as the two young men made their way down the hallway.

Yoongi didn't know what to do with himself, as Taehyung closed his curtains and turned on his christmas lights, strung about the ceiling like bright little stars. The lighting seemed to soften Taehyung, who really didn't need softening. He was already so delicate, baby hair, a smooth mouth, a pretty nose.

“Do you want to start at the beginning?” Taehyung asked, and Yoongi swallowed.

“I. I guess?”

“You've never done this before, ever? Not even with a girl?”

“I haven't exactly had _time,_ ” Yoongi grumbled, and Taehyung laughed.

“That's okay,” he said, stepping very close to Yoongi, right into his personal space. Yoongi took in a sharp breath because Taehyung looked _predatory,_ his eyes fierce and dark. “I'll teach you.” Then his lips slanted over Yoongi's and their bodies lined up and fuck. _Fuck._

Yoongi moaned and clutched his fists in Taehyung's shirt, while Taehyung cupped the back of his head and the small of his back. He felt Taehyung's thigh between his legs and yep, there was his boner, so he was into dudes after all.

Everything after that-- Taehyung's lips on his neck, his hard chest, Yoongi's mouth carefully sucking at the tip of his (impressive, holy shit) cock-- that was all just extra confirmation. Taehyung made Yoongi cum with his fingers, his thumb rubbing at his ballsac, his lips on Yoongi's dick and all Yoongi could think of was Jaehwan, Jaehwan's cock in his mouth, Jaehwan's hips against his and if he groaned out the first syllable of his name when he came, Taehyung didn't say anything about it.

Just sat up, swallowed, and licked his lips like the cat that got the canary. Or two.

~

“So, Jaehwan, can I suck your dick?”

Yoongi pressed his face into his hands and groaned in frustration. The school year was almost over and his mother's wedding was soon and all he could think about was how much he wanted to have sex with Jaehwan. It was kind of gross, really. He was sick of waking up with cum in his briefs and jacking off in the shower and sucking on his own fingers because that wasn't what he wanted but god damn it--

“You ready to go?” Jaehwan asked, and Yoongi jerked upright, nodding. Jaehwan blinked at him. “Taekwoon's gonna be here in a minute, so we should go.” They were catching a ride with him and Hakyeon to the school for the last choir performance of the year. Yoongi liked music-- liked listening to it, liked making it on his tablet with the silly little program, making songs he'd never let anyone listen to-- but he'd never been to one of the choir shows, so he was looking forward to it. He wasn't looking forward to sitting with Hakyeon, but that wouldn't be so bad once the music started, probably. Hakyeon was just a chatterbox.

Taekwoon's car was a beat-up third-hand Buick, but the seats were squishy and the inside of the car smelled like febreeze, so Yoongi didn't mind riding in it. Hakyeon waved hello to them while Taekwoon just barely inclined his head, somber as always, and started the drive to school. Yoongi couldn't help but look between the front seats, where the arm rest should have been, to see Hakyeon's hand trapped in Taekwoon's, thumbs rubbing gently. It made his heart hurt a little bit. The two of them had been together for a long time, even though everyone just pretended not to know about it because who knew what would happen to either of them if it got out. Kids were smart enough to keep that shit to themselves because they knew their parents couldn't be trusted.

But the way they looked at one another as Taekwoon pulled the keys out of the ignition-- Hakyeon's soft smile and Taekwoon's gentle eyes-- made Yoongi feel like a fucking fake, somehow. Did he just want to have sex with Jaehwan? Did he want more from him? Was he really gay, could he love a guy, did he _already_ love a guy, and was just living in complete and utter denial about it?

He didn't want to think about it so he turned his brain off and tore his eyes away, climbing out of the backseat. Jaehwan and Taekwoon headed in one direction while Hakyeon led Yoongi in another, smiling over at him. “You've never come to one of these before, right?”

“Mm,” he replied unhelpfully. Hakyeon didn't seem deterred.

“Jaehwan is really good. He has a solo this time, he was really excited about it.”

Yoongi hadn't known Jaehwan had a solo in the show. Somehow the information offended him, like Jaehwan should have told him this very important detail. Had he had solos in other shows? Why hadn't he asked Yoongi to come to those ones if he had? His malcontent must have been all over his face, because Hakyeon laughed at him.

“He never tells anyone about that stuff,” he assured. “Come on, lets go sit down.”

Luckily, Hakyeon's chatter was relatively quiet, just asking how Yoongi was, how his mom was, how Jaehwan was. He wasn't nosy, and he didn't seem too invested in the answers, which was good, and Yoongi managed to keep up with him until the choir actually got situated on stage and all of his attention was on Jaehwan.

Singing, Yoongi knew, was a skill he didn't really have. Some people were just born with it, they just... Had _it,_ the thing that made it incredible. Some people learned it, like any other skill, practice made better. But Jaehwan.

Jaehwan opened his mouth and Yoongi felt his heart drop because it was all incredible, mourning force, it was-- Jaehwan's being pouring out through his mouth, it made Yoongi's heart clench and tears well in his eyes for no fucking reason at all. Listening to Jaehwan sing was a fucking religious experience and when he was finished, the last chords of _Oh, Death_ straining away he almost couldn't hear the applause, because Jaehwan's voice was still ringing in his ears.

_Oh god,_ he thought to himself, staring at Jaehwan as he smiled, bowed and got back into his place with the rest of the baritones. _I'm in love with Jaehwan._

~

The ride home had been full of laughter and talking, Hakyeon and Jaehwan doing most of it while Taekwoon occasionally slipped in a comment. Yoongi couldn't make words come out of his mouth so he smiled and laughed when appropriate, waving to the older two men when they got out of the car at Jaehwan's house.

“...You're not as bad as you want people to think,” Taekwoon said, an observation that made Yoongi still as the car pulled away. Jaehwan tugged him inside, still smiling, fucking _glowing._ God, he was beautiful.

“Aaah I'm so hyped up! Maybe I'll go for a run or something, aaah,” Jaehwan hopped up and down, pulling off his vest and button-down to leave himself in his undershirt. “Oh, shorts,” he headed down to his room and Yoongi watched him go, swallowing hard.

“You wanna come? ...Yoongi?”

“Huh?” Yoongi stared at Jaehwan from where he'd been looking off into nothing, thinking about Jaehwan in a towel, about Jaehwan's body moving as he sang, about the way Jaehwan looked when he was sleeping, all curled up and sighing sweetly.

“Do you want to come? I'm gonna go for a jog.”

“No,” Yoongi shook his head. “Nah, it's fine, you go ahead. I'll be here when you get back.”

“Okay,” Jaehwan smiled, heading out the door into the cool early summer air.

Yoongi sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands.

~

“We've got to stop meeting like this,” Taehyung laughed from where he knelt between Yoongi's open legs, buried inside of him, hands stroking the insides of his thighs. “You keep yelling his name during sex and I'm gonna get jealous~”

“I do not _yell--_ ah--” Taehyung pushed hard against him and Yoongi whimpered. Okay, yeah, he. Said Jaehwan's name during sex, fine. He did.

“Why don't you just tell him,” Taehyung asked, bending forward to kiss Yoongi's very sensitive neck, run his hands down his skinny chest. “The worst he can do is say no, Yoongi.”

“I don't even want to think about that,” Yoongi replied, shivering beneath him. His sweat was cooling, and the cum on his belly was sticky, but Taehyung's weight between his legs was comfortable. “I don't even want to think about it.”

“Do you think maybe if I tell him I fuck you on the regular he'll get jealous enough to come on to you?” Taehyung asked, biting into Yoongi's throat, pinning him down when he squirmed. “Maybe if I tell him what a good little bitch you are he'll want to fuck you all on his own.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi whispered, and Taehyung sat up, cocking his head and looking down at Yoongi with something vaguely like concern on his features.

“You really like him, don't you.”

“No.”

“You fucking liar,” he said, carefully pulling his cock out, making sure he took his condom with him. “If you like him like that, you should tell him. I don't want to fuck you when you're thinking about fucking someone else. It's no fun for me, that way.”

Yoongi felt guilty, threw his arm across his eyes to keep from looking at Taehyung. He could _feel_ that he was being judged, he didn't need to see it, too.

“I mean it. You should tell him.”

“I know,” Yoongi replied, trying not to cry. “I know.”

~

It fell out of Yoongi's mouth like a fucking rock. His mother's wedding had put too much champagne in him, he'd been on a high seeing her so happy, seeing Jihoon, who was growing up to look so much like him, and he was just so happy he couldn't stand it--

“You know I love you, right?”

“You are so drunk,” Jaehwan muttered, helping Yoongi into his pajamas, swatting away his hands. “Shut up.”

“No, I mean it,” Yoongi said, smiling his stupid, gummy smile, the one he hated so much because it made him look like an idiot twelve-year-old. “I mean it, Jaehwan. I love you.” He held on to Jaehwan's shoulders and looked into his big, beautiful eyes. “I love you.”

“I think you should go to sleep,” Jaehwan said, and Yoongi pouted, letting himself be laid down in his new bed, in the new house, with his new family.

“Jaehwan~” he whined, kicking his legs. “Don't go~”

“Goodnight, Yoongi,” Jaehwan said, and Yoongi, drunk though he was, was not so gone that he couldn't tell he'd just ruined something. Maybe forever.

~

He woke up with a hangover and too much sun in his eyes. “Jaehwan,” he complained. “The blinds...” But he wasn't at Jaehwan's house. He was at... His house, his mom's house, the house Daewon had readied for them, so they could all live there together. There were no blinds in his room, just curtains, and Yoongi jerked upright, making himself nauseous.

Oh god, what had he done.

He made it to the bathroom before vomiting, clutching at the toilet bowl and heaving until his stomach was empty and nothing was coming up, not even little streams of yellow bile. Oh god, he'd told Jaehwan. He'd told Jaehwan and Jaehwan _left,_ Jaehwan hadn't said _anything,_ oh god, oh god--

Yoongi fought down hysterical sobbing, buried his face in his arms on the edge of the bowl and hiccuped, cried until he felt like a fucking raisin. Only then did he get up to take a shower, burning hot then icy cold, wrapping himself in a towel like that would protect him from his memories of the night before. He'd told Jaehwan he loved him.

He'd told Jaehwan he loved him and Jaehwan had left him alone with the words.

He buried his face into his hands and took slow, deep breaths.

“Yoongi?” came Jihoon's little voice from the hallway.

“Yeah,” he rasped, grabbing for a t-shirt, pajama bottoms to yank on before he moved to open the door, looking down at his little brother's sweet face. “Yeah, Jihoon, what's up?”

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Yoongi swallowed hard.

“Yeah,” he lied, smiling. “Yeah, I'm fine. Why?”

“You just... Sounded sick,” Jihoon said, in a way that implied he didn't believe a word Yoongi was telling him. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“Absolutely,” Yoongi nodded. “I'm gonna come down in a sec to get something to eat, okay?”

“Okay. Dad made toast for everyone.”

Yoongi nodded, smiled as Jihoon headed back down the hall and downstairs. He was already calling Daewon _Dad,_ because he was twelve and he wanted a father, because Daewon had promised to adopt him at the first opportunity. Yoongi wouldn't be so lucky, but Daewon... He didn't seem to care. Treated Yoongi like he was his son, regardless.

Maybe moving out of the trailer park wouldn't be so bad, Yoongi thought to himself, as he pulled off his pajamas to find real clothes and actually dry his hair.

It meant he wouldn't have to face Jaehwan.

It meant he wouldn't have to hear Jaehwan say, _I'm sorry, I don't love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dedicated to chtkwn, who wanted to know what was wrong with yoongi.


	3. Taekwoon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taekwoon is going to marry cha hakyeon. that's all there is to it.

Taekwoon was ten, the first time he met Hakyeon. He'd been sitting on his back porch, watching the river through the sparse and budding trees. The water was muddy with recent rain, too high to be safe, but there was a boy on a tree limb out over the rush, standing, surveying the water and the swampy mire beyond. He looked like Peter Pan, bare-footed and dressed in worn green with long, ill-kept hair.

Taekwoon didn't say hello, but as the boy came back up from the river's edge, calves and feet streaked with mud and little bloody scrapes, he waved. The boy waved back, his smile bright.

Taekwoon knows that was the moment he fell in love with Cha Hakyeon.

~

“Hakyeon,” he said gently, linking their pinkies together. He spoke quietly, knew Hakyeon would hear him around Hongbin and Wonsik, laughing with Ilhoon and Hyunsik. “I'll buy you something to eat, okay? Anything you want.” Taekwoon's quiet words were rewarded with a duck of Hakyeon's head and a nod. He knew Hakyeon hadn't had anything to eat since lunch, and that had been a snack-sized bag of chips and a can of mountain dew from the back of Ilhoon's truck, certainly not enough for Hakyeon: eighteen, growth somewhat stunted. Everyone was getting taller than him, it seemed.

“Okay,” he replied, and Taekwoon felt that same little swelling warmth he'd felt when Hakyeon had smiled at him the first time; his wild, Peter Pan grin with a smear of mud on his face to hide his black eye. Hakyeon had a lot of black eyes since then. If Taekwoon had his way he would bring Hakyeon home with him and never let him leave, would feed him every meal and snacks and kiss him good morning just like he did on the weekends, when Hakyeon stayed over to hide from his family. It wasn't that they didn't know where he'd gone, just that they didn't care. He had to stay there during the week, otherwise the entire place would fall into ruin.

Taekwoon knew Hakyeon's parents were self-absorbed and neglectful. He knew Hakyeon's sisters were the same, with little to no consideration for Hakyeon himself, which was why Taekwoon's older sister had stopped being friends with them. He'd listened to them fight about it from his bedroom, that shrieking harpy fighting that only came from being passionate about something and not having time to think about what you were saying. Taekwoon didn't hear that kind of thing very often. But he'd never heard his sister yell so loudly.

Hakyeon's sister had been carrying Hakyeon's new bag, the one Taekwoon had given him for his birthday. Taekwoon's own sister had helped him pick it out, since he was the worst at picking gifts – he just wanted to get _everything_ and his paycheck from the grocery store didn't exactly allow for that.

Taekwoon thought it was disgusting, the way they took advantage of their youngest sibling. Hakyeon should have been showered with love, should have been taken care of, but instead he'd been left in charge of taking care of the house, had been working at the corner store since he was fourteen and old enough to know how to work a register, for far too little money. The owners said they couldn't pay him any more than what he already got and Hakyeon, bless his heart, believed them. Hakyeon was always getting taken advantage of. More than once, Taekwoon had to assure Hakyeon that it really was okay, to let their friends buy dinner. That it was really okay to tell his mother no when she demanded he do something.

Hakyeon's fingers squeezed his, and Taekwoon blinked over at him, mouth somber. “Mm?”

“Nothing,” Hakyeon replied, smiling, his eyes bright. “You're the best. I want pastries and coffee~”

“Anything you want,” he repeated, and Hakyeon squeezed his hand again.

 _I love you_ had lost much of it's meaning for Hakyeon a long time ago. Taekwoon said it in other ways. Hakyeon understood, and that was all he wanted.

~

Taekwoon spent a lot of time just lying down with Hakyeon, listening to his heartbeat. He was so thin, when they'd first started doing it, when Hakyeon would come over and tuck himself into bed with Taekwoon at two in the morning on Saturday. All of his bones were showing then, and Taekwoon had rested a hand on his ribs and quietly promised to make him breakfast, pancakes and eggs and anything else he wanted.

At the time, he'd been surprised at Hakyeon's little sob, hadn't known what to do when he cried and so just held on to him, kissed his hair, cradled his head. It was a method of comfort he used for many years. It didn't surprise him anymore, when Hakyeon climbed into his bed in the middle of the night, trembling with cold or hunger or anything else. He went to Taekwoon to be taken care of, to be loved, and maybe that wasn't really healthy for either of them. They'd been wound around one another since they were preteens, but Taekwoon didn't care. The house could be burning down around them and as long as Hakyeon held still, Taekwoon would lay still beside him.

~

Hakyeon took the one dance class their school offered as an elective in their junior year. An upperclassman had given him a pair of shoes and Taekwoon brought him to Goodwill to try and find clothes he could wear without worrying about ruining them. Hakyeon had broken down less than an hour into shopping, shaking his head, and Taekwoon had to _insist_ that he wanted to buy him the gear, because dancing made Hakyeon so happy, because he deserved to be able to take the class, because he wanted it so badly.

Taekwoon knew Hakyeon would have talked himself out of it if he'd been left alone. But as it was he bought the leggings and tank-tops, a pair of leg warmers and a sweatshirt that he cut the collar out of the second they got home, pulling it over Hakyeon's head and smiling.

“Nobody puts Baby in the corner,” he'd said, and Hakyeon had laughed so hard he cried.

~

In early January a storm dropped eight inches of horrid, wet snow overnight. Taekwoon wrinkled his nose but got out of bed to shovel. His sister had already left for work, and he took up the job she'd started only to get out to her car. He widened the path and cleaned it up a bit obsessively until he saw Hakyeon standing at the end of it, snow sticking to his jeans up to his knees, his canvas sneakers soaked. “Hakyeon,” he said, and Hakyeon's face pinched up, teeth bared. There were so many hateful things Hakyeon would never say, even though Taekwoon sometimes wished he would. There was so much hurt bottled up that he never expressed, so much he deserved to spit because it poisoned him. “Hakyeon. Come inside.”

Hakyeon let himself be pulled, and Taekwoon was grateful for that. Sometimes Hakyeon put up a fight. Taekwoon was sure it was because he felt guilty, because he felt bad for being at Taekwoon's house at nine in the morning on a snow day in wet shoes with no socks and a terrible shake to his breathing. Taekwoon got the door closed behind them, grateful for the heater already being on. He peeled his friend out of his jeans and hung them over the tub, left his shoes on the shoe dryer by the door and found him a pair of pajamas and slippers to wear, his hands warm on icy thighs, on frozen arms. “What happened,” he asked, when Hakyeon no longer seemed like he was going to fly apart at the seams. He wasn't surprised at the sigh of resignation, the slow and inevitable tears.

“The heat got turned off yesterday,” he said, and Taekwoon bit the inside of his cheek, furious. Hakyeon's parents expected Hakyeon to pay the heating bill, even though he barely made enough money to pay his monthly phone bill, so of course it had been turned off, and of course Hakyeon would think it was his fault instead laying the blame on the shoulders of his parents, who took advantage of his soft and loving nature to make him feel guilty for shit that _wasn't his fault_. “I'm sorry, it was just so cold, I--”

“Shh,” Taekwoon hummed, leading his boyfriend, his love, over to the couch to tuck both of them in under a blanket. Hakyeon laid between Taekwoon's legs, his head on Taekwoon's chest. He stayed there for a very long time, crying quietly while Taekwoon stroked fingers through his hair. There was nothing to be done for his tears, there was nothing Taekwoon could do to convince Hakyeon that he wasn't at fault, it wasn't his _fault._ But he could cradle him, love him, promise to never let him go hungry, or freeze, or be left out on the front porch because the doors had been locked to keep him out. “Shh, baby, it's okay. I've got you.

I've got you.”

~

Taekwoon didn't get upset about many things, aside from Hakyeon being upset. Missing breakfast, missing when his nephews visited. But there were some things that even he had real trouble dealing with, and injury was one of them.

He messed up his knee.

He messed up his knee and ankle during the soccer team's fifth game of the season and had been told, _if you try to run on your leg now, you might not be able to run on it again._ Taekwoon felt like he was watching his entire life fall apart in front of his face. His scholarship to the state university was for soccer. If he didn't play, he couldn't go. He needed to be able to go. He needed to be able to get a decent job, he needed to be able to take care of himself, to take care of _Hakyeon--_

“Hey,” Hakyeon's soft voice jerked him out of reverie and he looked up at him from where he sat, his leg stretched out onto the coffee table, ankle still swollen and red from the stress of walking around all day. His knee was trapped in a brace that kept him from bending it. He hated it. “How's it feel?”

_Terrible. It hurts. It aches and it's stabbing and I'm scared._

“Fine,” he said, and he didn't miss the way Hakyeon squinted at him in suspicion. “What,” he asked. Snapped. Hakyeon's eyes narrowed further and he reached one tanned finger down and poked the red skin to the sound of Taekwoon cursing loudly.

“Fine. Mmhm. It sure sounds like it's fine, Taekwoon.”

“Just-- there's nothing you can do about it, Hakyeon, so just-- just fucking _leave it._ ”

Taekwoon had known Hakyeon for a very long time. He knew that being aggressive wouldn't help but he did it anyway, glaring up at Hakyeon like that would make his worry go away. God, he didn't want him to worry. He just wanted to be okay so he didn't have to worry, so Hakyeon wouldn't get upset. He hated that he'd injured himself.

“You don't have to yell at me,” Hakyeon said. Taekwoon watched his adams apple bob and wished he'd never opened his mouth. He knew from experience that Hakyeon was choking down a reactive comment. “...I know it hurts.”

“I'm so--”

“I brought some icy hot,” Hakyeon said, sitting on the coffee table. “And an ice pack, and a wrapping for it. “They told you to keep it wrapped, didn't they? The doctor, I mean.”

Hakyeon had been there, at the game. He went to all of Taekwoon's games, went to all of his choir recitals and loved every minute of it, or so it seemed to Taekwoon. Hakyeon's face had been the first thing he really _saw_ after he slipped, skidded, fell. Everything else had been a black-edged blur, except for Hakyeon's face. His beautiful face, brow furrowed in concern and fear as he held Taekwoon's hand like Taekwoon had held _his_ on countless nights before. _It's okay,_ he'd said. _It's gonna be okay, sweetheart, we're taking you to the hospital._

“...yeah,” Taekwoon whispered, flushed with shame as Hakyeon moved to sit so Taekwoon's ankle was resting between his thighs. His hands were so strong, firm but delicate as he lifted Taekwoon's ankle and rubbed in the medicinal ointment, humming to himself as he did so, fingertips working down to stroke the top of his foot, his toes, the aching arch where his cleats just weren't new enough to still have proper support. Taekwoon watched him and felt weak, horrified to feel himself sniffle as Hakyeon wiped away the medicine and rested the ice pack on the swollen part of his ankle.

“Here, give me your other foot.”

“No,” Taekwoon said, blushed, embarrassed for who-knew-why.

“Give it. Don't make me chase it.” Hakyeon wiggled his fingers threateningly and Taekwoon twisted his leg to bring up his foot, wincing when Hakyeon grabbed it.

“Don't tickle me—”

“I won't,” Hakyeon murmured, grabbing the icy hot and carefully rubbing it over Taekwoon's uninjured foot. Taekwoon watched him, flushed with humbleness, full of love. Hakyeon didn't have to do anything like that. He didn't have to help him, didn't have to soothe the aches from the day, and Taekwoon would certainly never have asked him to-- to rub his feet like some kind of slave girl or something and he wasn't sure at all about how he felt about it-- but there Hakyeon was, doing it, humming and massaging until Taekwoon couldn't help but relax, slumping back into the couch. He hadn't realized how much he was hurting until he wasn't hurting anymore. Hakyeon smiled down at him, and stretched to kiss him on the mouth.

“You should let me take care of you sometimes, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon murmured, pulling off the ice pack to rub Taekwoon's feet with a softly-scented lotion, slow and almost sensual, before re-wrapping his ankle. “I want to take care of you, too.”

“You don't have to,” Taekwoon whispered, looking up at Hakyeon as he got up and moved to sit beside him, offering his own chest to be cuddled.

“I know that,” Hakyeon replied, wiggling his fingers for Taekwoon to lay against him. Taekwoon sighed and did as he was subtly being told, resting his head on Hakyeon's chest, which was not so bony as it had been the last time he'd done this.

He finally got comfortable, the bridge of his nose against Hakyeon's neck, and sighed as Hakyeon finger-combed his hair. “It's just a sprain, baby,” Hakyeon assured, his voice a sweet whisper. “You'll be back on the field in no time, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Taekwoon replied, fisting his hand in Hakyeon's shirt. “I. I hope so.” He felt weak, and small, and very loved. Had Hakyeon's shoulders always been so broad, his heartbeat so steady, his kiss so full of reassurance and compassion? Maybe Taekwoon had just been so busy worrying about Hakyeon that he hadn't noticed his lover worrying about _him._

“Don't hope,” Hakyeon whispered into his hair. “Know.”

~

No one was surprised that Hakyeon didn't go to college. The surprise (for most people) was that he found a job almost immediately after graduation in a dance studio downtown, as their front desk and secretary. Taekwoon could hardly keep from smirking as Hakyeon nearly leapt for joy.

“I got the job I got the job Taekwoon I got the job--”

“I told you that you would,” Taekwoon whispered into his ear, holding him to his chest, kissing his head. “I'm so proud of you for applying. Are they going to let you take lessons?”

“Yeah,” Hakyeon replied, breathless with happiness, practically glowing. The good news just kept coming after graduation, like all of the good karma the two of them had been building up was showering down all at once. Taekwoon was healed up enough to play soccer. He'd gotten into one of the student apartments downtown, and requested that Hakyeon be allowed to stay with him. There were conditions, of course, but the two of them were moving out, moving out _together._

“I love you,” Taekwoon murmured, kissing the soft skin under Hakyeon's ear and smiling when he shivered and squeezed him tighter.

“I love you more,” Hakyeon said.

Taekwoon spent the rest of the night trying to prove that statement wrong in the sticky summer heat, the two of them sweaty and panting in the dark blue sheets of Taekwoon's twin bed.

~

“I can't believe it's ours,” Hakyeon whispered, and Taekwoon hummed, holding him chest to back, arms braced around his middle. “I can't...”

“Mmm, you can,” Taekwoon murmured, kissing his neck with lusty intent. Hakyeon made a soft sound.

“You're an animal,” he teased, smiling over his shoulder and kissing Taekwoon's cheek. “Is it time to christen the place?”

“Every flat surface,” Taekwoon said. “And some not flat surfaces, too.”

“Where do we start?”

Taekwoon grinned, and tugged on Hakyeon's hips to turn him around, speak against his lips. “How about the foyer?”

~

The first visitor to their new apartment was, predictably, Jaehwan. Taekwoon welcomed him in, frowned at the stormclouds lingering around his head, and motioned him to the couch. “You want a drink?” he asked, and Jaehwan nodded, lip chewed between his teeth. “What's wrong?”

Jaehwan pressed the water bottle against his forehead and was silent for a long few minutes.

“...Yoongi moved away. His mom got married.”

“Oh,” Taekwoon said, cocking his head to one side and settling back into his chair. “And... That's bad?”

“I don't know,” Jaehwan confessed, rubbing at his eyes. “I just. I don't know what. He. He said he loved me,” Jaehwan spat it out like it was something distasteful, and Taekwoon's eyes widened in alarm. Jaehwan got more upset the longer he spoke, his voice raising dangerously into hysterical territory. “He said he loved me, he was drunk, I'm so _mad--_ ”

“Woah, wait, back up,” Taekwoon leaned forward, looking intently at his younger friend, who was tearing his hands through his hair and baring his teeth down at the floor. “He what? Are you sure?”

“Don't know how I could have mistaken it,” Jaehwan said, so shaken his eyes were watering. “He said it straight to my face. Three times.”

“When?”

“Two weeks ago,” Jaehwan said, sliding his hands down to cover his face. “Two weeks ago. After his mom's wedding. He was drunk, I was just trying to get him into bed and then he looked at me, oh my god, Taekwoon, I didn't know what to do, I didn't say anything.”

“...So you didn't... Say anything at all? Nothing?”

“I said goodnight,” Jaehwan said, sounding like he wanted to throw himself off a cliff. “Taekwoon. Taekwoon what do I _do._ ”

Taekwoon blinked, and swallowed. Jaehwan's parents were... well. Conservative. They let Jaehwan keep Yoongi at their house because Jaehwan had begged them, because he'd told them Yoongi's situation at home wasn't safe. But if they knew Yoongi had said something like that to their son, well. That was a different story.

“Well,” Taekwoon started, not at all confident of himself. He and Hakyeon had fallen together like they were meant to be. Hakyeon's family didn't matter, and Taekwoon's was supportive and loving as they'd always been, more than happy to adopt their new son. He didn't know what it was like to struggle with his feelings like that. He was sure Jaehwan was struggling. Suffering, even. “Do... Do you like him, Jaehwan? Like he likes you?”

“Loves me,” Jaehwan corrected, smiling miserably.

“He might not have meant it like that, Jaehwan--”

“Yoongi doesn't say he loves anyone except his mom and his brother. Ever. He doesn't want to. He's scared of it.”

Taekwoon didn't want to know how Jaehwan knew that.

“But he said he loved you.”

“He was drunk.”

“But he said it.”

“He was intoxicated, I can't believe something he says when he's drunk--”

“Have you talked to him since then?”

Taekwoon watched Jaehwan sink into himself, humiliated and agonized. That was a no, then. Taekwoon took in the sight of his younger friend, holding his hands over his face, shoulders tense, knees locked together as he bent over his thighs.

“You should really talk to him, Jaehwan. I can't... I can't fix it. But he might be able to.”

“But I'm not gay,” Jaehwan said, sitting up to rub at his eyes. “What if he can't be friends with me anymore? What if he doesn't _want_ to be friends with me anymore, Taekwoon, I can't-- I can't handle that, I need him, he's my _friend._ ”

“I think...” Taekwoon licked his lips, and got up to ruffle Jaehwan's hair. “I think you need to talk to him. And when you're done talking to him, you can come and talk to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Jaehwan whispered, his voice uncharacteristically weak.

“Okay. Come on, lets watch a movie or something. Hakyeon will get mad at me if he comes home and you look like you've been crying.”

~

“What's wrong, honey,” Hakyeon asked, sprawled under Taekwoon, their hips cradled together, his fingers in Taekwoon's sweaty hair. “You have that look on your face.”

“...Did you ever... Think maybe we weren't supposed to be together?”

“What?”

“Jaehwan came today,”

“Yes, I saw him.”

“He said Yoongi... Confessed to him, while he was drunk.”

“...Oh. _Oh._ ”

“He's really upset about it.” Taekwoon stretched down and forward, pressing into Hakyeon with a gross _squish_ and chuckling when Hakyeon grimaced, but bumped his belly up against Taekwoons. “He's convinced he only said it because he was drunk, and that there's no way he can return his feelings.”

“You think he's lying.”

“I think Jaehwan's parents are full of shit and scared the life out of him when they made him go to church as a kid. I don't think he's _lying,_ I think he's in denial.”

“Mmm, that's just as bad,” Hakyeon whispered, turning his head to kiss Taekwoon's temple. “He'll let us know when he talks to him?”

“Mm.”

“Good. I like Yoongi.”

“What?”

“He's... Not as bad as everyone thinks,” Hakyeon murmured, spreading his thighs a little wider to let Taekwoon's weight drop onto him. “He's soft. Jaehwan's soft, too. They can be soft, together. Now come on,” he smiled, kissed Taekwoon's nose. “Stop talking about the kids while we're in bed.”

~

Taekwoon liked Sunggyu. He was a senior who was majoring in Music Technology and Music Theory and Composition a program that overlapped with Taekwoon's. He lived two floors down from them, and liked coffee _almost_ as much as Taekwoon did. They'd become friends over the course of the semester, and Taekwoon waited for his reaction to the question, holding his breath.

“Are you sure I'm the right guy for that job?” Sunggyu asked, blinking. “It seems really personal, Taekwoon.”

“I just need... Some guidance,” he said after a moment of thinking. “I'm really bad at picking things, so...”

“Aah, so you just need a wingman to make sure you don't mess up too bad, I get it. Yeah! Sure, just let me know when you want to go, I'll make sure Minji has a babysitter.”

Taekwoon nodded, smiling down at the toddler on the bench beside Sunggyu, scribbling with her crayons, her hair in pigtails. “I don't know, maybe she should come too. Feminine touch, and all that.”

“I think you just want to adopt my kid,” Sunggyu replied, and Taekwoon laughed, rubbing at his neck and biting his lip. The image of cradling a child between himself and his lover, the idea of the love they could share as a family, made his heart clench. He wanted that. Wanted it so much.

“Nah,” he said gently. “I'd rather have my own.”

~

Hakyeon often came home late from his job. He worked from nine to five, and then usually spent a few hours in a class before making his way home, either on his bike or walking. Taekwoon had been worried, the downtown area could be rough, but Hakyeon had laughed off his concerns. _I grew up in a trailer park, Taekwoon. I can handle myself._

And he could, if the bruise on his cheek and chin, the split in his lip was any indication when Taekwoon nearly threw himself into the police station, his heart in his throat. The police had called-- could he come and get a Cha Hakyeon-- and he'd nearly flown, terrified beyond reason.

“What do you look so worried for,” Hakyeon asked, smiling even though it must have hurt, and Taekwoon pressed the back of his hand against his mouth. “Sweetheart, I'm fine.”

“You should see the other guy,” the officer muttered as he left the two of them alone in the lobby, aside from the secretary. Taekwoon collapsed on the bench beside Hakyeon, reaching for his hand. Hakyeon took it, cradling their fingers together.

“I did kick the other guy's ass,” Hakyeon said, giving Taekwoon a bright smile and visibly wilting when Taekwoon didn't smile back at him. “Taekwoon, I'm okay. I promise.”

“Take my car from now on.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Hakyeon murmured. Taekwoon bristled and Hakyeon kissed his knuckles. “One stupid kid trying to mug me isn't enough for me to take your car. You need that. The bus doesn't run when you leave class.”

“You can pick me up,” Taekwoon gasped, unable to put into words how terrified he'd been that he was going to arrive at the police station and Hakyeon was going to be bloodied and beaten and _ruined._ It was one of his worst nightmares, had been ever since the first time Hakyeon had come to his house crying, with a bloody nose and lip and red wrists. “You can pick me up, Hakyeon, please--”

“Sweetheart,” Hakyeon soothed, speaking against his fingers, his free hand cradling Taekwoon's head. “Sweetheart. I'm all right. Breathe for me, please? I'm sorry I scared you, I told them to tell you I was okay.”

Hakyeon had to drive them home. Taekwoon's hands didn't stop shaking until they were tucked close in bed, and Taekwoon had kissed the taint of blood away from Hakyeon's lip.

Or maybe he'd just got accustomed to the taste.

~

Their christmas tree was small, but real. Hakyeon had insisted on a real tree, one they could plant after Christmas was over, and Taekwoon had obliged. It was decorated with strings of silver beads and white lights, tiny silver and red globes and a pretty white star on top. The two of them had been drinking the entire time they decorated it, and by the end had been sharing drunken, gin-flavored kisses on the rug that dissolved into giggles when tinsel got everywhere.

But on Christmas morning they were sober and quiet, sitting beside one another on the floor. Their modest stack of presents were littered beneath the tree and as they worked through them-- from Taekwoon's parents, from Jaehwan, from Sunggyu and Minji-- Taekwoon felt his heart getting more and more unsteady, it's beat too fast.

“What's this,” Hakyeon asked, picking up the last box and shaking it experimentally.

“Just open it,” Taekwoon complained, trying not to sound too whiney. He knew he'd failed when Hakyeon grinned over at him and made a show of peeling the paper apart _very carefully,_ just to be obnoxious. “Hak _yeon._ ”

“Fine, fine,” he laughed, and snapped the box open.

His smile melted away from his face, replaced with shock, with awe. Sitting there in the box was the ring Sunggyu had helped Taekwoon pick back in the beginning of November, thin and rose gold with a small diamond in the band. Taekwoon chewed his lip and felt himself getting more and more nervous the longer Hakyeon didn't say anything.

“Hakyeon?”

“Taekwoon,” he started, sobbed, clapping his hand over his mouth and squeezing his eyes closed as he grimaced. Taekwoon knew that was just what Hakyeon did when he was surprised so he tried not to worry about it but still, still it frightened him, oh god--

“Taekwoon, it's beautiful,” he managed and he was _crying._ Taekwoon felt himself start to climb the high that came from just being with Hakyeon, from making him happy, from _loving_ him.

“Is that a yes,” he asked, and when Hakyeon started nodding, leaning into Taekwoon's shoulder, frantically kissing his lips, his cheek, jaw and neck, Taekwoon had his answer. He hadn't doubted it, not really, but it was so good to have it confirmed.

Hakyeon loved him.

Hakyeon was going to marry him.

The world could not have been any more beautiful.


	4. Taehyung.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taehyung is always off in his own world, because he doesn't like the one he lives in. 
> 
> this chapter has non-consensual situations, references to sexual abuse and child abuse, and depersonalization.

Kim Taehyung liked his Grandmother. She was old and wrinkly but her cheeks and hands were soft, she was light enough for him to lift from her chair to her bed when she was having a bad day, and she loved him. He felt safe with her. Not only because she wouldn't ever hurt him but because she, physically, couldn't.

~

When Taehyung had sex with Yoongi, he felt very powerful. Predatory, in control. Yoongi spread out so prettily under him, willing and wanting to learn. It had been a pleasure to teach him, if he was honest. To slide fingers into him until he could take two with a little lube and no hesitation, until he got hard from just a mouth on his neck and soft, panting sucking sounds near his ear. It was gratifying to know he was teaching Yoongi about sex in a safe place.

Safety was important to Taehyung. There were locks on the windows and doors, a security system his Grandmother insisted on having installed when he came to live with her. There were nightlights and the sound of soft music in the house at all hours. Taehyung hated silence. He practically lived with his earbuds in, and he'd been very grateful when his teachers had stopped asking him about _why he was listening to music in class_ and instead started paying attention to his obsessively maintained 4.0GPA.

Kim Taehyung lived to be in control of things. Yoongi. Sex. GPA. Everything.

~

Of course, there were days that were worse than others. Sometimes he walked home and instead of going to his house he kept walking, out to where the towers stretched up over the flattened landscape, carrying the powerlines in their great metal arms. There was a huge growth of wild roses there, and especially in the early summer, he went there to spend his time, laying half-under the bushes and listening to classical music until it was dark. He thought about all kinds of things, laying beneath the roses. Yoongi. He wondered if he'd managed to tell Jaehwan that he was in love with him. He wondered about Namjoon and Seokjin, and whether or not the two of them were ever going to really be together, even though Seokjin was a grown-up and the two of them used to share a house with Kim Donghyun, who worked too hard and looked like a zombie all the time, even though he always gave Taehyung a juice box when he came by the house like he was some kind of little kid. He wondered about Choi Minho with his little twins and that guy he kept having over, or was it a girl? Taehyung couldn't say for sure. Sometimes he thought about Bobby and Juno, who were always somewhere between a screaming match or a vicious fuck on their back porch, or maybe some combination of both.

Basically, while he was under the roses, Kim Taehyung thought about anything, everything, and everyone, except himself.

~

“Taehyung,” the woman said, leveling a heavy gaze at him. Taehyung stared back at her. “Don't be uncooperative. These sessions are supposed to help you, but they won't unless you communicate with me.”

“There's nothing to talk about,” he said, squirming uncomfortably in the stiff chair, trying to find a position to settle in. He was trapped in this room for another forty-five minutes. “It's over.”

“Taehyung--”

“Can I go now?” He jerked up from the chair and the woman let him leave. He heard her sigh heavily as he all but ran out the door to the office, heart about to burst in his throat. That was too close, too close. He wouldn't go back. He wouldn't.

The rosebushes were waiting for him when he got home, fragrant and thorny as he laid beneath them, looking up at the blue-and-white sky. The sound of the _Carmina Burana_ was loud in his ears as he tucked his face into his elbow and tried to sleep, to relax. He couldn't go home until two, anyway. His Grandmother had to think he'd gone to his psych appointment and stayed there. She'd been so upset the last time, when he hadn't stayed, and he didn't want to upset her any more. He loved her. But she didn't understand.

Nobody really understood.

~

Sex with Jimin was not like sex with Yoongi.

Yoongi laid back and learned, and Jimin already knew, so it was more like a fight. To see who could dominate, to see who was going to pin who to the bed. Taehyung enjoyed it, because Jimin was stong and soft-skinned, because he was clean and had a pretty eye-smile and hair that tickled his neck when Jimin sucked at his throat. Taehyung, more often than not, ended up on the bed on his back and he was okay with that. He was okay with it, as long as he could see Jimin, as long as he could pull him up his body for kisses and gasp into his ear when Jimin's cock pushed that place that made him see stars.

“Taehyung,” Jimin panted, shifting to change positions, getting Taehyung further up into his lap to squirm and rock. “Aah, Taehyung. Feels good.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung breathed, speaking against Jimin's lips, arching his back forward when hands smoothed down to cup his ass and spread him just that little bit more. “Ooohfuck. Jimin.”

“C'mon,” Jimin whispered, sitting up, turning them over so Taehyung was laid out. “Jesus, Tae.”

“What,” Taehyung asked, hips twitching as Jimin yanked him up his thighs. “Uhnwhat.”

“You're so gorgeous.”

_you're so pretty._

Taehyung shivered and closed his eyes, grinned. “I know,” he said, and Jimin laughed, bent to suck one nipple into his mouth. “Aah.”

When Taehyung came, when his cock twitched and his ass clenched and his nails buried themselves into Jimin's shoulders, he made a soft, distressed noise. Jimin kissed his neck and fucked hard for three more thrusts before pinning Taehyung to the bed and panting, reaching down to hold his condom around his cock as he pulled out.

“God, you're so good,” he said with a smile, and Taehyung shivered in a way that had nothing to do with pleasure, at all.

~

Taehyung stopped having nightmares about it a long time ago. He stopped dreaming about it, because he stopped dreaming at all, or at least something took mercy on him so he never remembered his dreams. He didn't want to remember.

But when it was hard to sleep he climbed into his grandmother's bed and tucked his head into her. She stroked his hair and murmured nonsense like she'd been doing since he was a kid and he hugged her and felt like he could sleep.

And if it happened a little more over summer vacation than it did over the school year, well. She didn't say anything. Just kissed his head and made sure the blankets covered his shoulders. He didn't really feel like he was there, like it was the echo of a sensation but he didn't say that. Couldn't say that.

He didn't want anyone to know.

~

His grandmother sometimes went out with her old-lady friends. Taehyung liked all of them, called them all _grandma_ and made sure of where they were going, when they were coming back. He put her wheelchair in the trunk in a position it would be easy to pull out of, and kissed all of their cheeks goodbye.

Hazy August was too hot for under the rosebush so Taehyung laid on the living room floor instead, head propped up by a blanket, wearing just a tank top and basketball shorts. He didn't like basketball, but he didn't want to lay around in his boxers. What if his grandma forgot something, she'd have to come back inside and see him in his boxers. How traumatizing.

He was dozing, when the door clicked open.

He was sitting up, when someone grabbed him by the hair and dragged him up from the ground and his voice was stuck between his lungs and his teeth when he got a good look at his attacker. He couldn't even scream.

He scrabbled against the floor, the coffee table, the shelves-- tried to get leverage to throw something, tried to breathe, tried to-- to do _anything_ but hold still and let it happen, let it happen again, it was happening again, Taehyung had been so sure he was safe, he'd left his guard down, he hadn't locked the door, he thought he was safe he thought he was safe--

“Hello beautiful,” the man murmured, and Taehyung could do nothing but whimper, hands on the man's chest, trying to push him away. His hair was still gathered in a big fist and he was crying because it hurt, because he was terrified. “Told you I'd find you, huh?”

“L-leave me alone,” he squeaked, gasping when his head made contact with the wall, dropping the picture frame of his school photo to the floor. “Please--”

“Please what,” he asked, and Taehyung shook his head, shook his head, shook his head.

“Please don't, please don't please--”

Taehyung was not physically weak. He was very strong, and getting taller every day, even though he was already seventeen and most of his friends were done with their growth spurts by then. But somehow he felt like a kid, scrawny and skinny and scared, unable to do anything as he was dragged down to the floor, his head hit into the coffee table until he was seeing spots, too dizzy to speak coherently.

“No,” he breathed, eyes unfocused as he was rolled over, his arms limp. Why was he so weak, what, why--

“Yes,” the man replied. “You know you missed me, baby. Didn't you miss me?” Hot breath on the back of his neck and Taehyung whimpered, hiding his face in the carpet, shaking his head. “You know you did. You know you missed your daddy.”

The man was hard already. Taehyung knew he would be. He got off on it. Scaring Taehyung, pinning him, having him at his mercy. He'd been like that for as long as Taehyung had known him and Taehyung should have known he was going to come here. He'd followed him through two foster homes before his Grandmother was allowed to take him in and why wouldn't he have come here? What did a restraining order mean to a man who could overpower Taehyung any time he chose?

“No,” Taehyung clawed at the carpet, trying to move away. He was laughing at him. The man was _laughing_ at him as he yanked down his shorts and gave his backside a sharp slap. “No!”

“Ah, there's that pretty ass,” he hummed, his weight too heavy on the back of Taehyung's thighs. Taehyung started to cry.

And then everything separated, fell apart like he was in Alice in Wonderland, slipping down the rabbit hole and landing in another world completely.

~

Taehyung wasn't sure how he'd ended up on the front lawn. His entire chest was itchy, his hands were itchy and sticky, and his mouth tasted like he'd been sucking on pennies, or tin foil. Someone was saying his name, but it also felt like it was someone elses name, so he turned to look and saw Seokjin and Namjoon running towards him, a look of panic on their faces.

“Namjoon,” he said, though it sounded like he was underwater. Everything was... Muffled.

“Taehyung, Taehyung jesus what happened, what he fuck happened--” Namjoon's pleasant accent washed over Taehyung like warm water.

“It's fine,” Taehyung said, and he realized his fingers were wrapped around the neck of a sparkling cider bottle, broken, bloodied. It still smelled like apples. “I'm fine.”

“I'm calling 911,” Seokjin was saying, and Taehyung blinked up at him, at Namjoon, who was frantically draping his hoodie around Taehyung's naked shoulders. Taehyung was naked. He hadn't noticed. The grass was soft on his calves and knees, though it wasn't as nice as under the rosebush.

“911 is a good idea,” he heard himself say. “I think he might be dying. Maybe he's already dead.”

“Who,” Namjoon asked, cupping Taehyung's face, looking at him very closely. “Who might be dying, Taehyung.”

Taehyung turned to look at the splatters of blood on the porch, on his body, and laughed. “My dad,” he said, and his laughter grew and grew until it turned hysterical, and by the time the ambulance arrived he was sobbing, the bottleneck still in his hand, his face in Seokjin's broad shoulder.

~

Taehyung's mother died of a drug overdose.

He'd come home from school his last day of eighth grade to find her dead in bed, the needle still sticking out of her arm and he'd gone to the phone, called 911, and informed them very calmly that his name was Kim Taehyung, he lived on 98th street in the Mill Block apartments, number 671, and his mother was dead.

When the paramedics arrived, Taehyung had already packed his overnight bag and was sitting on the couch, staring out over the room. He was herded out of the room and brought downstairs, only half-listening to the questions he was answering.

“Where's your father?”

“I don't have one.”

“Who can you stay with?”

“My gramma lives in the trailer park. But that's three hours away. I can't walk there by myself.”

“You're not going to walk anywhere, sweetheart,” the paramedic said, and Taehyung looked up at her. She was pretty. She had brown hair and brown eyes and she was wearing a tiny silver chain around her neck. She let him sit on her lap in the ambulance and despite her best efforts, Taehyung watched the corpse being loaded into the second ambulance. The corpse.

She'd never really been his mother at all.

~

His mother's boyfriend was not eligible to take care of Taehyung, and so he was put in foster care. He liked it well enough. The woman was nice, her husband was nice too, but they had an older son that Taehyung didn't like and a daughter that he did. She was sixteen and pretty and Taehyung was twelve and she had sex with him. He let her think that she taught him how to suck her breasts and thrust into her warmth while she cooed his name. He let her think that because he liked it. He liked it a lot. She was soft, and smelled good, and he learned what felt good for her and did it, even when he didn't really want to, because she asked him to.

“You're a good boy, Taehyung,” she'd said as his tongue swirled around her nipple, his fingers working between her legs. “Aah you're such a good boy for me.”

But his mother's boyfriend liked to do this kind of thing too, so Taehyung already knew most of what he was doing. It was just a little different with a girl, since their bodies were different.

Then, one afternoon, Taehyung's mother's boyfriend came to pick him up from school. _I thought I might take you out for dinner or something, kid,_ he said, and Taehyung nodded, climbed into the front seat of his truck, and buckled his seatbelt.

He was missing for three days before he came home and apologized for disappearing.

_Sorry about that. I guess I just got distracted._

He was moved to another home two weeks later.

But his mother's boyfriend came there too, and the police connected the dots when Taehyung told them they'd just gone to get dinner, and then back to his house to play games and he'd just lost track of time. A restraining order was put into place, and Taehyung's grandmother, still able to drive then, came to pick him up.

“Hi Gramma,” he said, and she ushered him into the car.

“Come on, sweetheart. We're going home.”

~

Seokjin was talking, but Taehyung wasn't really listening. Everything seemed like it was at the other end of a tunnel. The sheets he laid on felt like blades of razors and the lights above him seemed out of place and strange.

“What's _wrong_ with him?”

“We sometimes call this a depersonalized state,” someone else was saying. “He's here, but I don't think he's really... Here. His psychologist told us this was a possibility when we contacted her.”

“What does that even _mean,_ why is it _happening._ ”

“There are lots of things that can cause this kind of state to happen, Seokjin. We'll... Just have to figure it out as we go. Regardless, I'm sure his actions will be ruled as self-defense, especially considering the result of the rape kit.”

Rape kit?

Oh. Right. Rape, that was what his psychologist had called it.

~

His grandmother brought Jimin with her to the hospital. They both seemed unfamiliar to Taehyung, until he could smell his grandmother's floral perfume. He blinked at them, and offered out his hand as though to comfort them. His grandmother cried. Jimin cried.

Taehyung didn't understand what they were crying about. He was fine.

He was fine.

He was fine.

 


	5. Namjoon and Seokjin.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the two of them are lucky, and in love, and they're going to be okay.

The car pulled into the driveway and Namjoon sighed, pushing himself out of the seat. A week of macaroni and cheese with hot dogs it seemed, though he could hardly blame Seokjin for that. It was the end of the month, the EBT card was running on empty and they'd emptied most of the freezer. He was thankful, at least, that Seokjin had gotten ice cream, because it was _so hot--_

“Namjoon,” Seokjin's voice was uncharacteristically tight. “Namjoon, is that Taehyung?” Namjoon blinked stupidly but turned around and squinted two houses down and-- and yes, that was Taehyung on the front lawn, kneeling, looking collapsed in on himself.

He took off running and knew Seokjin was hot on his heels. The two of them had been looking out for Taehyung since he'd moved into the park four years ago. He was such a space cadet and Namjoon was always worried he was going to lock himself out or accidentally starve to death while his grandma wasn't looking, so they'd just... Adopted him, as it were.

“Taehyung,” he heart himself say, nearly shout, because the closer he got the worse Taehyung looked and god he hoped that was paint splattered all over his naked front, his hands, his face but it smelled like wet copper and in Taehyung's hand was the neck of a broken bottle, the green glass and white label smeared red and brown. “Taehyung jesus what happened, what the fuck happened--”

Taehyung just blinked up at him, slowly like always. “It's fine,” he said, and Namjoon felt ice down his back. All thought of the summer heat was gone. “I'm fine.”

“I'm calling 911,” Seokjin said and Namjoon was grateful, because he was collapsing to the ground in front of Taehyung and yanking off his lightweight hoodie to wrap around Taehyung who was _naked,_ bloody on his front lawn, and turning his head like he was a puppet to look at Seokjin as though he didn't recognize him at all.

“911 is a good idea,” he said, and Namjoon turned to look at him. “I think he might be dying. Maybe he's already dead.”

It was like those horror movies, when the stupid teenagers realized who the killer was and that they were in the room with him. Namjoon felt like a bucket of water had been dumped over his head as he asked, “Who, who might be dying, Taehyung,” and Taehyung's face started to crumple, his voice ripped to shreds.

“My dad,” he said, and he laughed and laughed until the sound turned into horrific, wrenching sobbing. It was noon on a Tuesday, and Namjoon was glad there was no one around as Seokjin pushed the phoneinto his hand, eyes full of tears as he too, dropped in front of Taehyung and pulled him close to hold him, to murmur into his hair.

“It's okay,” he whispered, cupping the back of Taehyung's head. “It's okay, Taehyung, it's gonna be okay.”

~

The ambulance came, and the EMTs told Namjoon he would have to come to the hospital on his own. “If you're not blood related, we can't let you into the ambulance.” He wanted to argue, but Seokjin was already running back to their trailer, yanking the groceries out of the back seat and dragging them inside, throwing bags into the freezer, the fridge. Namjoon followed him and the two of them changed their clothes before getting back in the car to go to the hospital.

“Oh my god,” Namjoon managed after a few minutes, the two of them on the highway to the nearest hospital, nearly twenty minutes away. “Oh my _god,_ what the fuck just happened.”

“I don't know,” Seokjin was saying, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, his anxiety not at all effecting his driving for which Namjoon was grateful. If Namjoon had tried to drive they'd probably both be dead by now. “I don't know, that-- That was fucked up, I don't know.”

“Do you think he's gonna be okay?”

“I don't know.”

Namjoon said nothing else. Not about how fast they were going, not about Taehyung, and not about the way that Seokjin's white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel was terrifying him. Even once they _got_ to the hospital he didn't say anything. Let the sounds wash over him in a three hour blur as Seokjin found the person he needed to speak to, a doctor, who wanted him to talk to the cops-- but he wanted to know what was wrong with Taehyung first. Trust Seokjin to care about his duckling before the snake trying to eat it.

“Wait, wait I don't understand,” he was saying, rubbing his hand down his face. “What's _wrong_ with him?”

“We sometimes call this a depersonalized state,” the doctor said, trying to keep Seokjin's fearsome temper from lashing out, clearly. That was probably a good idea. Seokjin could be terrifying. “He's here, but I don't think he's really... Here. His psychologist told us this was a possibility when we contacted her.”

“What does that even _mean,_ why is it _happening._ ”

“There are lots of things that can cause this kind of state to happen, Mister Kim. We'll... Just have to figure it out as we go. Regardless, I'm sure his actions will be ruled as self-defense, especially considering the result of the rape kit.”

_Rape kit._

Namjoon got up very quickly to find a bathroom and vomit, spitting and coughing. Rape kit, Taehyung had been _raped._ What the _fuck._ Namjoon had heard about that kind of thing of course, in psychology classes and stuff like that, but he'd never... Heard about it happening in real life. Then again, statistics said men were less likely to report it, and if it really was Taehyung's dad then why would he, but why--

“Namjoonie,” Seokjin said, and Namjoon pushed up away from the toilet, shaking all over as he did when he was throwing up, his mouth tasting sour. He flushed and turned to open the stall door. Seokjin smiled weakly, offered him out the tiny mouthwash he kept in his bag as an anal-retentive precaution against garlic breath. “Here.”

Namjoon nodded and went to the sink, rinsed his mouth out with faucet water and then mouthwash, pointedly not looking at himself in the mirror over the counter. He turned around to end up pressed to Seokjin's chest.

“I'm okay,” he croaked, and Seokjin nodded.

“I know, Joonie, I know. Come on, we... I already talked to the cops, so we can go home.”

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“I... Hope so,” Seokjin replied and Namjoon blinked, a moment too late to ask. He'd talked to the cops? Now long had Namjoon been in the bathroom? “For now, lets... Lets just go home, okay? His grandma is going to stay with one of her friends for now, until everything is... Processed and cleaned up.”

“Right,” he said, letting Seokjin lead him out of the bathroom, and then the hospital, by the hand. Seokjin held his hand all the way home, right up until they were through their front door and it was locked behind them.

“Seokjin,” he said, and his older lover turned to smile weakly at him.

“Come on,” he said, going down the hallway. “Come lay down.”

Namjoon fucked Seokjin slow for what felt like hours, until the two of them were just too exhausted to stay awake and Seokjin kissed his throat, held him close.

“It's okay, Namjoon,” he whispered. “It's okay.”

Namjoon didn't feel okay.

~

“So I heard there was quite a ruckus out your way,” one of Namjoon's coworkers said, obviously trying to make speculative conversation. “What happened?”

“I don't know,” he heard himself say. The image of Taehyung kneeling there, the sound of his hysterical laughter and crying, the bottleneck in his hands still burned into his memory. “Lots of cops, though.”

“I heard they caught a guy on the way back to the city,” he said, and Namjoon wanted to break his neck to shut him up.

“You should mind your own business,” he said, turning his chair back to his desk and making a very concentrated effort not to hunch.

“Touchy,” he sniffed, and Namjoon was tense until he walked away. Only then did his back relax, only then did his eyes wander to the photo on his desk of the four of them-- Taehyung, his grandmother, Seokjin and Namjoon, last Halloween. They'd gone as the cast of the Wizard of Oz because it was Taehyung's favorite, and he'd gone as the Scarecrow, his grin bright and silly as he flashed a V at the camera while hugging his grandmother's gingham-clad shoulders with one arm.

He looked so happy.

Namjoon buried his face in one hand and tried not to snap his pen with the other.

~

“Baby,” Seokjin's voice was very far away but getting closer, as Namjoon drifted towards wakefulness with a grunt of displeasure. “Baby, come on. Wake up.”

“No,” he replied, and Seokjin laughed, pressed kisses to his cheeks.

“Yes,” he said, and Namjoon groaned, squinting his eyes open to look at his lover who in all likelihood had been up for hours and was just waiting for him to catch up.

“What,” he asked, and Seokjin smiled.

“I made breakfast.”

“Leggo my eggo,” Namjoon muttered, and Seokjin laughed, kissed his nose.

“I made real waffles. Come on, get up. Please?”

With an unimpressed grunt, Namjoon dragged himself out of bed to the smell of maple syrup and coffee. Seokjin had always wanted to go to school for Culinary Arts, but never had the money. He worked on two restaurants, cooking, but he wanted to be in charge of the kitchen.

Unfortunately he had to settle for being in charge of _their_ kitchen, which was really a good thing, because Namjoon had, legitimately, burned ramen once. Boiled it right down to _nothing,_ scorched the pan, and been given the title _Banned For Life_ as far as the kitchen was concerned _._

“You're the best,” Namjoon said, toddling out to the kitchen to rest his chin on Seokjin's broad shoulder.

“You only say that because I'm feeding you,” he said absently, reaching a piece of bacon over said shoulder and almost directly into Namjoon's mouth. “Greedy.”

“I love you,” Namjoon said, kissing his neck.

“Ugh, stop getting bacon grease all over me,” he complained, motioning to his left. “Get your plate together and get away from me until you shower.”

“Jerk,” Namjoon huffed, though he went to do just that. His plate was already made-- with a big pat of butter in the middle of his waffles, which were a bit drenched in maple syrup, as was his bacon. There was an egg over easy, and a bowl of sliced apple. Usually, when he and Seokjin went shopping, the two of them bought a bunch of things they could freeze, a few basic items, and then spent the entire month improvising recipes and experimenting. This was a bit of an extravagance, as they were once again close to the end of the month. “...Thanks, babe.”

“You're welcome,” Seokjin murmured, turning to kiss his cheek before walking to their “dining room,” a round table in the corner with two chairs. They sat across from one another and ate in comfortable silence, the only sound the birds in the maple tree just outside the house and the light strains of _Stellamara,_ some weird band Seokjin liked and therefore Namjoon was subjected to.

“Namjoon,” Seokjin said, in that thoughtful way he had when he was about to suggest something a bit foolish. “I have a question.”

“Okay?” he asked, looking up and giving Seokjin his full attention. Neither of them had to be at work until noon, so they had time to talk, if Seokjin needed to talk. And he'd needed to talk quite frequently in the last month, especially about Taehyung and Jimin, because Seokjin couldn't help but mother-hen and the whole experience with Taehyung-- taking him to the hospital, finding out he'd been raped, finding out from Taehyung that it was hardly the first time-- had broken him a little. Seokjin had grown up poor but happy, safe in his home. Namjoon might have spent more time out on the street with his rowdy friends but he too had been safe in his own home with his parents. It broke Seokjin's heart and frightened him, Namjoon knew, that not all people were afforded the same luxury. It frightened him, to see it up close and so very, very personal.

“I was thinking,” Seokjin said, pursing his lips.

“I thought I smelled smoke.”

“Stop that,” Seokjin frowned, and Namjoon grinned at him until he broke down and smiled, too. “I was thinking, Namjoon, that. Maybe we should... Maybe we should get married.”

In the quiet of the house, Namjoon heard his own heart stop and restart again, and he was keenly aware of how Seokjin's expression changed from nervously hopeful to panicked over the course of the five seconds Namjoon didn't _say_ anything.

“I'm sorry,” he said, moving too fast, fumbling to pick up his dishes to put them in the sink and run away from Namjoon like he always did when he was worried about what he would say. “Sorry, I just--”

Namjoon caught his arm before he could run too far, yanking him back to land in his lap, the dishes clattering to the table while Seokjin shrieked, whether about being pulled down so violently or because his plates might break, who knew.

“Namjoon!”

“Seokjin,” he said, his voice low and serious against his shoulder. “Kim Seokjin. Are you listening?”

“Yes,” he said, trying to sound unamused but shivering anyway. “Yes, I am.”

“I would love to marry you.”

“What.”

“I'm saying yes, you moron, don't make a face like you don't believe me.”

“How can you tell what face I'm making,” Seokjin asked, voice thick. “I'm not even facing you.”

“You think you need to be facing me for me to know what face you're making? You've been dating me for almost ten years, Kim Seokjin. I know what face you're making. Now turn around so I can kiss that disgusting pout.”

Seokjin was turning before Namjoon even told him to, kissing him hard, straddling over his lap and holding the back of the chair to keep their bodies as close as possible. “I hate you,” he whispered. “You _scared me._ ”

“Did you honestly think I'd say no,” Namjoon laughed, and Seokjin bent to press his head into Namjoon's warm, warm neck.

“...No,” Seokjin said, only a shade of a lie on his lips. “Not at all.”

~

“You can't make the cake for your own wedding!”

“It's not a wedding, Hoseok--”

“Wedding party, then! Either way don't you _dare,_ I, your Best Friend For Life, will do it.”

“Hoseok, Hoseok the last time you tried to bake anything--” Hoseok sniffed at Seokjin from where he stood behind the counter of the deli.

“I am not in the habit of repeating mistakes, Kim Seokjin. I will pay someone else to bake it.”

~

Somehow, what was supposed to be a small celebration turned into an outright party. Between Hoseok's two hundred cupcakes, the sandwiches made at the deli he managed, the donated coffee and tea from Minseok's cafe and Jackson Wang's big mouth, practically the entire park showed up to celebrate Namjoon and Seokjin's wedding with food, drink and general merriment.

To be honest, it was all a little overwhelming.

Seokjin had cried, hand over his mouth when Taehyung offered him a hug (his first since the hospital) even though Jimin was still holding his hand, when Taehyung's grandmother insisted on ruffling his hair and kissing both of his cheeks before giving him a card. There were so many gifts, so much affection. Even Juno and Bobby managed to be civil to one another for a few hours, helping to organize the unexpected gifts and pass out food while Jackson organized people, suggested impromptu games and generally kept the mood up to a thousand.

When it was over, and everyone was leaving (being required to bring three pieces of trash to the door to be let out, Jackson's orders) Youngji pulled Seokjin aside. Youngji, Jackson's girlfriend and a lovely peach who worked at one of Seokjin's restaurants, was one of Seokjin's favorite people. He rather thought Jackson didn't really deserve her, but he treated her so well he could hardly protest. Even though Jackson's loudness was overstimulating on the best days. He looked at her curiously as she peeked around his shoulders to make sure no one was watching.

“What,” he asked, unable to help the happy glow of his cheeks, unable to stop smiling.

“I wanted to wait until everyone was gone,” she said, holding his hands. “I didn't want to-- to take away from your day, but I found out this morning, and I wanted you to know.”

“Know what,” Seokjin asked, and Youngji beamed up at him.

“I'm pregnant,” she said. “And I want you to be the godfather.”

“Wh. What?” Seokjin blinked, and Youngji smiled anyway.

“I'm pregnant,” she repeated. “And I want you to be the godfather, Seokjin.”

“...He's marrying you, right?”

“Of course!” she laughed, and Jackson poked his head inside, his hair a wild mess from the wind outside.

“What are you laughing at, babe?”

“You! Get in here immediately!” Seokjin nearly shouted. And Jackson, in a moment of uncharacteristic wisdom, stepped back outside to the sound of Youngji's cackling.

~

“I always knew I was going to marry you,” Namjoon murmured from where he laid beneath Seokjin, his legs comfortably parted with his older lover's weight settled between them. “Even ten years ago when you were awkward and weird-looking.”

“Liar,” Seokjin said, his face in Namjoon's neck. “You did not. And I have never been weird-looking you brat, I've always been this handsome.”

“I did too,” Namjoon replied. “I knew. I looked at you and I decided I was going to marry you.”

“I just got around to asking first?”

“I wanted to have a ring for you,” Namjoon pouted. “But, you know. Thankless office job.”

“I know,” Seokjin said, humming. “It's okay. I can't wear rings to work anyway.”

“You could wear it on a necklace?”

“Mm, that's true. We could go get some this weekend?”

“You say that like we can afford them,” Namjoon said, his eyes starting to close. Seokjin chuckled, easing out of him with a groan and moving to his side, kissing him sweetly. There was a gross stickiness between their legs but Namjoon didn't want to get up, and Seokjin ran his hand up Namjoon's belly, careful as always not to touch the cum he knew was all over his stomach.

“They don't have to be fancy, Kim Namjoon. Nothing else about our lives is. ...Come on, we need a shower.”

“No,” Namjoon said, eyes closed.

“I am not sleeping with you when you smell like a whorehouse.”

“And whose fault is that, huh?”

“That is _not_ the point, now get up. I'll change the sheets.”

“Do we have clean sheets?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, and rolled Namjoon back and forth over the bed until he whined and got up, pouting, looking extremely scandalized. “Don't make that face at me!”

“I'll make whatever face I want,” Namjoon squinted, though he made his way to the bathroom with a grunt, walking a bit funny. The skin between his cheeks was wet with lube and cum and his legs ached, strained at the back of the thighs and knees. Sex was great, but sometimes it fucking _hurt_ afterward. Not the kind of hurt that happened when someone was too rough, just... From being stiff.

“Someone needs to be doing yoga with me,” Seokjin sing-songed as he came into the bathroom where Namjoon was waiting for the water to get hot, sitting on the edge of the tub. Namjoon scowled up at him and Seokjin bent to kiss his nose.

“Get away from me,” he muttered. “I do _not_ need to do yoga.”

“You'll be more limber,” Seokjin said, cooing in encouragement as he got into the tub and sat, motioning for Namjoon to follow him. “We'll be able to use more positions during sex~”

“You just want to see how many positions you can fuck me in,” Namjoon replied, getting into the tub.

“Stay on your knees baby,” Seokjin murmured. “Lemme clean you out.”

“You are so gross,”

“You don't get to say that when we've been having sex for almost ten years.”

“You're _gross—_ ah—hey!”

“What? What was that about me being gross?” Seokjin asked, one hand on Namjoon's balls, the other pushing two fingers up into him with no effort at all. “I couldn't hear you.”

“NnnI take it back,” Namjoon groaned, knocking his knees as far apart as he could in the narrow tub, shivering when Seokjin kissed his belly, his hip, the curls at the base of his cock. “I take it back. You're not gross.”

“That's what I thought,” Seokjin muttered, grabbing for their shower head at the end of it's hose. The tub drained slow, it had for a few months now, but Seokjin didn't really mind since it meant the two of them could sit in the tub with a few inches of water and shower without having to plug the tub and trap all the... Bodily fluids around their legs.

Taking his time, he cleaned Namjoon from shoulders to groin, fingering the mess out of his body and pubic hair, wiping his belly clean and kissing his chest as he got up on his knees and got the same treatment.

“Wait,” Namjoon said, shivering and getting up just to put the shower head up in it's stand. He knelt back in front of Seokjin and wiggled his arms around him, cupping his backside, dragging him close. “Mmm.”

“Nam _joon,_ ” Seokjin complained even as he wrapped his arms around Namjoon's waist and held himself close, rubbing their groins together. “Namjoon I'm _tired._ ”

“Mmmhm,” Namjoon nodded, kissing Seokjin's neck, the water showering down in a light enough spray that neither of them had to worry about drowning (they'd figured that out not too soon after they'd moved in). He rolled their hips together to the sound of the water, to the music of Seokjin moaning soft in his ear until he was hard and trembling.

“Namjoon,” he whispered, biting into his neck. “Namjoon, fuck.”

“Fuck?” Namjoon asked. “You want me to fuck you?”

“ _Obviously,_ you inconsiderate prick, you did this on purpose--”

“Yeah,” Namjoon laughed, turning off the hot water and plugging the tub. “I'm feeling nostalgic. And as much as I love your dick in me-- and I do love it,” he assured, even as he worked to spin Seokjin around. “Sometimes I just want to fuck you until you're limp. And I know you like that in the tub.”

“I do,” Seokjin sighed, bending over the side of the tub to put his hands on the cool floor, feeling Namjoon squirting lube and rubbing his erection against his ass. “ _God,_ I do.”

~

Seokjin woke up sore.

Namjoon was in bed beside him, his hair a wild mess and his face half in the pillow as he snored, mouth open. He was drooling a little, and Seokjin rolled his eyes, bent to kiss his cheek anyway. Stupid Namjoon. Stupid, beautiful, wonderful, _his,_ Namjoon. 


	6. Yoongi 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yoongi was not ready for school to start again. not when the summer had been so good.

Yoongi was grateful for summer break. He hadn't seen Jaehwan the entire summer, and on one hand he was devastated by that-- he wanted to see him, god he wanted to see him, wanted to kiss him, to hear him sing but on the other hand he didn't want to hear him say--

_i'm sorry, i don't love you._

\--anything that would hurt his feelings, so he spent most of his time around the university, hanging out in the library there. It was a short walk from Daewon's house, and he liked all the quiet. He liked the time to catch up on a bunch of reading, the time to write and nap in the comfortable chairs beneath the huge windows on rainy days.

But sometimes he was interrupted.

A tall guy sometimes sat too close and today, apparently, he was looking to make conversation.

“So I've never seen you here before this summer,” he said, and Yoongi squinted one eye open. “What's your name?”

“Mind your own business,” he said, and the man laughed. Wow, that was attractive, but Yoongi scowled anyway. “What are you laughing at.”

“You,” he replied, easily. “So aggressive. It was just a question, one with an easy answer.”

“It's easier to mind your own business. Don't you have any manners?”

“Not really,” he replied, and Yoongi smiled a little despite himself. He was reminded of Bobby, of Jiho and Hyunseung from-- from back home. “My name's Simon.”

“...Yoongi.”

“Nice to meet you, Yoongi,” Simon said, offering out one hand. Yoongi took it, still squinting suspiciously. “We should hang out sometime.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

~

As it turned out, Simon was kind of persistent and kind of nice, which Yoongi hated. He brought Yoongi coffee and sometimes a pastry, he studied Music Technology and came to the library to work since his roommates were too loud for life. And he thought Yoongi was cute.

“What.”

“You're cute,” Simon said. “Does that weird you out?”

“I prefer just  _good looking,_ ” Yoongi replied, not looking nearly as nervous as he felt, his heart pounding.

“You're good looking then,” Simon laughed, and Yoongi felt his belly tighten. “And maybe we should go and get lunch sometime.”

“Lunch...” Yoongi thought of Lee Jaehwan, thought of his fairy prince nose, his dark eyes and the way his voice sounded when he said Yoongi's name early in the morning, his smile,  _wake up, god, we have school you jerk._

“Lunch sounds great.”

~

It was a struggle to not think of Jaehwan all hours of the day. When he woke up, when he went to bed, and every moment between. Simon was... He was nice, but he wasn't Jaehwan, and there was no moment where that was more clear than when Simon kissed Yoongi and his lips were fat but not fat enough, and he was tall but almost too tall, and Yoongi kissed him anyway because, god, he just wanted to  _forget_ about Lee Jaehwan and his angelic voice and his beautiful, silly smile.

There were a lot of things Yoongi did with Simon, trying to forget about Lee Jaehwan. And looking back, most of them weren't things he really wanted to do. He'd said yes, of course—been enthusiastic and responsive, enjoyed it, but in the back of his head he'd been thinking about someone else, and that tainted the experiences. Ruined them.

“Stop,” Yoongi panted, so hard it was painful, hands fisted in Simon's jacket sleeves. “Simon st... Stop.”

“What's wrong,” Simon asked, pulling back just enough to look at Yoongi. God, he was handsome. So handsome, and strong, and he pushed Yoongi against the bed so fucking well. “Yoongi? You okay?”

“I ju,” he started, finding himself unable to finish, struggling to breathe, panting, holding on to Simon like Simon was the only thing holding him up. “I just.”

“Yoongi?” Simon asked, voice mildly alarmed, one hand cupping Yoongi's face. “Hey. Are you all right?” Yoongi leaned into him, pressed his lips to Simon's warm palm and decided that his want to forget Jaehwan outweighed his usually careful instincts.

“Lets fuck,” he breathed, looking up at the taller man. Simon blinked down at him, brow furrowed.

“What? Are you sure, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi replied, and he shifted his head to let his lips trace over Simon's fingertips. “Yeah, I'm fine. Come on, lets fuck. Please?”

Simon didn't look convinced, But Yoongi dragged himself up to kiss him and silence any oncoming protest. It was easy enough-- treat Simon like Taehyung. Have sex. Fuck.

_Fucking isn't the same as making love, Yoongi. That's rule number one._  Taehyung had said, his neck buried into Yoongi's neck, biting, sucking, raking nails down his sides as Yoongi shivered and squeezed his legs around Taehyung's hips.

Yoongi opened his legs and Simon hissed, his weight dropping between them. “Fuck,” Simon hissed, his chin falling to his chest, and Yoongi felt some kind of—of  _victory._

“Come on,” he whispered, unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth. “Get those clothes off, Simon,  _now,_ ” even as he squirmed out of his own clothes, ripped his shirt up over his head, his teal hair faded to a soft mint, his skin pale as snow like he'd always been. It was rewarding, to see Simon tense up with lust, to  _see_ how much he wanted Yoongi. He kept asking, even as he got undressed, as he threw his clothes to his bedroom floor, as he sucked Yoongi's cock and pressed lubed fingers into him.  _Are you sure, Yoongi are you sure?_

“Yes,” Yoongi breathed, legs parted, hips cocked. “ _Yes--_ ” Simon's cock pushed into him in a painfully slow thrust and Yoongi shivered, wiggled his hips and reached down to cup his balls, to thumb at his cock. “Oh, fuck yeah.”

“Jesus,” Simon hissed, reaching down to grip Yoongi's ass, spread his cheeks and push just that little bit closer. “Uhn, fuck, so good, Yoongi.”

“Get down here,” Yoongi panted, reaching up to grab at Simon's back. “Get down here, fucking kiss me,  _now--_ ” Simon did as he was told, rolled Yoongi's body up and bent, rested on his elbows and thrust shallowly as he licked at Yoongi's open mouth, sucked and bit his lips. “Ah, ah, yeah, nn--” For every thrust a sound, and Simon bent further to rest his mouth near Yoongi's ear.

“So good, you're so good Yoongi, fuck, so hot, so fucking hot,” and Yoongi moaned in reply, grunted, planted his feet and rode his hips against Simon's,  _fucked_ himself on Simon's cock and when Simon hissed in protest, Yoongi pressed his hands to the bed and attempted to knock him back.

Simon went willingly and Yoongi straddled his hips, sank down and stayed there, jerking his hips back and forward, raising up, pushing down and moaning when Simon wrapped a hand around his cock and jerked. “Ah, fuck yeah, touch me, like that.”

“You're so fucking hot,” Simon hissed, pushing his hips up, the sound of skin slapping loud in the otherwise silent apartment. “God, wanted to fuck you for weeks, wanted to fuck you right in that chair you bratty little shit--”

“Do it,” Yoongi gasped, bucking into Simon's hand. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck--”

Yoongi had no idea how long they had sex. He knew that when he came he shouted, squeezing his balls and coming up his belly instead of onto Simon's chest. He knew Simon flipped him over, re-buried himself and came in him, pinning his weight down. And while some part of Yoongi was sparkling with electricity another part, something more secret, something more soft, was going dark.

~

“I see you brought your trailer-trash jailbait,” one of Simon's friends asked, and Yoongi bristled. “He looks like he oughta be back at middle school in his cute yellow galoshes.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jiyong,” Simon said, hugging Yoongi just a little tighter to him. “Mind your own business.”

Yoongi didn't like many of Simon's friends, though to be fair Simon didn't seem to like them either. He hung out with them mostly because they were in the same major, not because they actually enjoyed one another's company.

Some of them weren't so bad, but Jiyong. Yoongi didn't like him. He was aggressive, slimy in a way that reminded him of Juno's older brother. Greased. He gave Yoongi the creeps.

Yoongi pressed back into Simon and did his best to ignore the way Jiyong was grinning at him like he was a particularly nice-looking cut of meat. It made Yoongi feel very small and helpless, and even as Simon walked him home Yoongi couldn't help but look over his shoulder once or twice, to make sure Jiyong wasn't there.

~

School started too soon for Yoongi. Simon had to go back to classes and so did he, their days of lazy sex and music were over. For longer than Yoongi thought.

“I'm sorry,” Simon said, tucking back Yoongi's hair, the week before school was due to start again. “But it's not fair. What am I going to do if you meet someone you like better at school?” he said, like he knew something Yoongi didn't. Yoongi fought not to let his face fall. He knew it was going to end this way. He wasn't in love with Simon, he knew they weren't... Dating, not really, but it hurt so much, anyway.

“It's fine,” Yoongi lied, smiling up at him. “You can't keep up with my stamina, huh? I understand.”

“You little shit,” Simon laughed with great fondness, hugging him tightly to his chest and kissing his head, the most... Romantic thing the two of them had ever done. “You better keep in contact with me okay? Just because we're not hooking up doesn't mean I don't want to hear from you.”

“Got it,” Yoongi said, his face hidden in Simon's chest. Simon didn't let him go until Yoongi had gathered enough of himself to not look completely pathetic. He appreciated the consideration, even as Simon cupped his face and kissed him, slow and warm on the mouth.

“See you around, shorty,” he said, and Yoongi felt his chest tighten. “Don't cry.”

“I'm not crying!” he nearly shouted, shoving away from Simon. “I'm  _not crying._ Get out of here, you jerk, saying things like that.”

Simon smiled, bent to kiss his cheek from where he stood behind him, and... And left.

Yoongi went upstairs into his bedroom and closed the door, sinking down against it. Somehow it was worse than before. Now, it wasn't just Jaehwan's handsome smiles that he missed.

~

“So what did you do this summer?”

“Not much,” Yoongi lied, dribbling the ball back and forth, before passing it over to Hongbin, who caught it and shot for the hoop. “Just hung out at the new house, mostly.”

“How is the new place,” Wonsik asked, and Yoongi shrugged.

“It's okay. S'quiet.”

“Not hard to be quieter than the park,” Hongbin snickered a little and Wonsik echoed it.

“That's true.”

“Have you seen Jaehwan at all?”

Yoongi felt himself starting to stiffen and tried to keep it from happening. “No?” he said, turning to look at Wonsik. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” he said, and Yoongi squinted.

“Stop doing that, you look like Hakyeon.”

“I do  _not._ His nose is way bigger than mine.”

“I'm telling him you said that,” Wonsik laughed as the bell rang, signaling that lunch was over.

Yoongi spent the rest of the day obsessing over what it meant, Wonsik asking him if he'd seen Jaehwan. He wondered if it meant anything at all. He wondered how much it would hurt, if it meant nothing.

~

“Hey Jailbait.”

Yoongi gritted his teeth and kept walking. He'd recognize Jiyong's voice anywhere but he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to see his stupid face or talk to him so he kept walking until a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him around.

“Hey--!”

“Don't  _ignore_ me,” Jiyong said, standing too close, far too close. Yoongi sucked in a breath and stared. Jiyong might have been handsome, if he hadn't been so terrifying. He was lean and wiry where Simon was toned and broad, and he moved like a feral cat, all teeth and claws. He scared Yoongi. Scared him a lot, as much as he'd never admit it.

“What the fuck do you want,” he hissed, shoving Jiyong away from him. Jiyong laughed, slung an arm around Yoongi's shoulders and dropped his weight. “Hey!”

“Hey what, Jailbait,” Jiyong asked, grinning. “I just gotta question for you. Just one, think you can handle that?”

“Think you could get the fuck off of me, you fucking prick,” Yoongi jerked out from underneath him and Jiyong bared his teeth.

“So  _mouthy._ ”

“Get lost, asshole.”

“Now now,” Jiyong cooed, grabbing Yoongi by the back of his shirt and the straps of his backpack. “Don't play hard to get, now. I just have a question.”

“So fucking ask and leave me alone!”

“Do you know Jang Hyunseung?”

“What?”

“Do you know. Jang Hyunseung.”

“I,” Yoongi knew Hyunseung. Hyunseung lived down in the tiny trailer out by Bobby and Juno's place, he was a recovering addict, an ex-con who worked out at the warehouse. He biked there every day because he didn't have a car, and he sometimes sat out on his porch and smoked, watched them all go by when they walked home from school. At Halloween he had the best candy, and Yoongi had seen him jogging around the park at one, two o'clock in the morning, alone. “No.”

“ _Liar,_ ” Jiyong accused, and Yoongi stiffened. “Tell me where he lives.”

“Go find him yourself--”

“He lives in your trailer park, doesn't he.”

“No,”

“He does.”

“I don't know anyone named  _Hyunseung--_ ”

“You're a goddamn liar, Jailbait,” Jiyong murmured, too close to Yoongi, close enough that Yoongi could smell the fruit gum on his breath, close enough he could see the red in the corners of his eyes. It was terrifying. “But thanks for the info. Done me a favor, huh.”

“Hey! You leave my brother alone!” Jihoon's voice wasn't strong but it was loud and reedy, and the neighborhood suburban enough that the sound of a kid shouting would bring attention to the street. Jiyong let go of Yoongi's shirt, pushing him back and Yoongi fell to the ground, shivering, staring after his lean form as he got into his black car and drove off.

“Are you okay?” Jihoon asked, and Yoongi nodded, though he silently held his brother's hand the rest of the walk home. Jihoon didn't let go.

~

Yoongi knew he'd see Jaehwan eventually. He knew he'd have to see him and talk to him, but he'd assumed Jaehwan would be... The same, as he'd been the May before. But it was September now, and Jaehwan seemed thin. Not only had he lost weight but he seemed less bright than before, less talkative and Yoongi didn't know how to approach the issue. Didn't even know how to say hello.

“He looks sick,” he said to Jimin. Jimin nodded.

“He was gone, for two weeks right before school started. He didn't look like that when he left.”

“Did he say where he went?”

“No.”

Yoongi thought about all the horrific possibilities. There were so many awful places Jaehwan could have gone that would have made him sick, but it wasn't long after school started that the rumours started to fly because someone somewhere didn't know how to mind their own goddamned business. It was the same way the rumours about Taehyung and Baekyun got around.

_he got sent to the fucking looney bin_

_he went to a church camp—why?--to make him straight—he's gay??_

None of the rumours were any better than the others. And Jaehwan seemed so hollow, so light, and it got around to Yoongi that he was skipping choir, walking home slowly by himself. Jaehwan hated being by himself, it was a fundamental part of his personality.

One Tuesday afternoon, after calling to leave a message on his mom's phone, Yoongi jogged after Jaehwan, backpack bouncing, hands gripping the straps to keep it close.

“Jaehwan,” he called. “Jaehwan! Hey, wait up!”

Jaehwan turned around. He was ghostly, standing there tugging his sleeves down over his hands, and Yoongi jogged a little faster, catching up to offer a weak smile.

“Hey,” he said, trying for lighthearted. “Hey, how's it going?”

“It's fine,” Jaehwan said, pulling harder on his shirtsleeves.

“Doesn't look fine,” Yoongi said, tentative.

“I'm fine.”

“Do you mind if I walk home with you?”

“Don't you live somewhere else now? Shouldn't you be walking there instead?” Jaehwan's voice was sharp and Yoongi frowned, looking at him with brow furrowed and lips pursed. He hadn't expected... That. It was so Not-Jaehwan.

“What's with that, huh?” he asked. “I can't walk home with you? It's not like I can't ask my mom to pick me up.”

“Why don't you just go home, Yoongi,” Jaehwan said, and Yoongi felt his temper start to boil because he was  _trying_ to  _help_ and Jaehwan was being fucking impossible.

“I'm asking you if you want to talk about what's  _wrong--_ ”

“Nothing is wrong!” Jaehwan nearly shouted, and Yoongi was so stunned he couldn't say anything, even as Jaehwan stalked down the street, arms tightly crossed over his chest. Yoongi watched him go and swallowed hard.

Jaehwan never yelled. Jaehwan never rose his voice or lashed out.

Something was wrong.

Something was really, really wrong.


	7. Jaehwan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jaehwan thought he was a upright, overall good person, but now he's having his doubts.

 It wasn't that his parents were religious. They'd never been religious, they just... Brought him to church until he was old enough to say he didn't want to go, that's all. They let him make the decision and he liked to think that _because_ he'd gone to church as a kid, he'd grown up to be a fairly upright, responsible young man. Not that there weren't other people who were just as upright and responsible who _hadn't_ gone to church, look at Kris, he was as upright as people got.

But that was neither here nor there.

He was staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, arms crossed over his belly as he idly snapped a rubber band against the inside of his left wrist, hard enough to leave smart red welts at strange angles. He'd been doing that for a while, because it felt good, because it didn't leave any permanent marks. He couldn't have scars, he couldn't _bleed._ No one else could know about it, not even--

He heard the bathroom door open, the hum of the vent loud, and Jaehwan tucked his arms under his head, closed his eyes before Yoongi could come into the bedroom, dressed in his pajamas, clothes sticking to his wet skin.

“Are you sleeping?”

“Yes,”

“Jackass,” Yoongi muttered, and Jaehwan smiled, looked over at him.

“You love it.”

“No one loves it, you moron.”

Jaehwan laughed, and Yoongi started laughing, and everything was okay.

~

Jaehwan had been cleaning up his bedroom, when Yoongi called. It was weird, because Yoongi never called, he always texted, and for a moment Jaehwan was so startled by the ringtone he'd panicked, throwing the clothes he'd been holding while he searched for his phone on his person.

“Yoongi!” he chirped, when he managed to answer the call. “What's up, what can I do for you?”

“Where are you,” Yoongi asked, and Jaehwan felt his stomach drop.

“...What's wrong, Yoongi? Where are you?” He was already grabbing for a pair of jeans, pulling a hoodie over his head. If something was wrong and he had to go get Yoongi from his bastard uncle's house then he wanted to get there as soon as possible.

“In the... In the closet,” _oh no,_ Jaehwan thought, his heart racing. Where the fuck were his _keys?!_ “I think. I think I broke something.”

“Hold on, hold on, I'll be right there, okay, don't move.” Jaehwan yanked his keys from the desk and threw open his bedroom door.

“I can't,” Yoongi sobbed, and Jaehwan hung up the phone, taking off down the road, sprinting down two streets and across three until he got to Yoongi's place. The driveway was empty, and he fumbled for the house key Yoongi had given him the last time something like this happened and he had to climb in a window, spraining two fingers.

“Yoongi?!” he shouted, pushing open the door and pausing only for a moment. “Yoongi, I'm here, I'm here--” he knew where the closet was, down in the hallway and it was there he went, yanking at the bolt, growling in frustration until it slipped undone and he could throw the door open. Yoongi nearly fell out, pale in the face and panting. “Oh jesus, oh jesus fuck,” Jaehwan grabbed for him, held still when Yoongi screamed out, clutching hard at his sleeves. “Oh god, what happened?”

“Help,” Yoongi whispered, and Jaehwan surveyed the damage in terror. Yoongi wasn't bleeding but his knee was-- and his _hip--_ “Help, please--”

“You gotta go to a hospital, Yoongi, oh my god, your leg--”

“No! No, no fuck please just get me out of here please Jaehwan--”

“Okay,” Jaehwan whispered, hating that he was going to do this, hating that it was going to _hurt_ Yoongi so much but the alternative was to leave him there on the floor or wait for an ambulance or wait for his bastard uncle to get back and none of those were options. “Okay, okay, hold on, I'll-- it's gonna hurt, I'm gonna lift you--”

Yoongi wailed into Jaehwan's shoulder before the sound cut off and, shivering and teary himself, Jaehwan hoisted him up properly into his arms, going into his bedroom to grab his go-bag (which Jaehwan had insisted he make up after the second time something like this happened) and then leaving, closing the door behind himself, leaving the closet door ajar. Let the guy try and come after Yoongi, let him _try._

Jaehwan would kill him.

~

He managed to push Yoongi's dislocated knee back into place before Yoongi woke up, but there was nothing he could do about his hip except press cool compresses to it and hope the swelling didn't get any worse. Yoongi was asleep on his bed, having woken up once only long enough to take the two tylenol with codeine Jaehwan had left over from his wisdom teeth being taken out. He'd gone back to sleep and Jaehwan was glad. Something in him was pulled so tight it hurt and he snapped his rubber band over and over, until the skin of the welts was so soft and raw that one last snap had him bleeding, the skin cut open.

Fumbling for a bandage, Jaehwan cried. Not because it hurt but because it wasn't fair-- what had Yoongi done to deserve this, when had he ever deserved this? He'd moved here because he had to, his brother got taken away to foster care, his mom worked so hard and yet somehow--

And it wasn't that Yoongi didn't try, either, he did. He just wasn't so personable about it as most. He was soft-hearted and Jaehwan knew that, as he pressed down a couple of bandaids and watched him sleep.

He was one of Jaehwan's best friends.

He just wanted him to be okay.

~

“I have to go back to my house eventually,” Yoongi said, and Jaehwan looked up from his calculus homework with a frown, setting down his pencil and trying not to cross his arms like he was about to lecture the other young man.

“No you don't,” he replied, after a moment of silence. “And you won't.”

“You can't stop me,” Yoongi said.

“Oh, you'll find that I can,” Jaehwan said, and he could feel the way his face was stiff and hard, but he couldn't make himself relax. He'd keep Yoongi here if he had to tie him to the goddamned bed, he was _not_ going back to his uncles. Anywhere but there. They'd argued about it earlier in the week and Yoongi had relented, for which Jaehwan was grateful, but he just kept pushing.

“I can't stay here forever,” Yoongi said. “I mean, I know you love my beautiful face and everything, but you've gotta let me leave some time, Jaehwan.”

“I know,” Jaehwan said, looking down at his math and trying to ignore the lump getting bigger in his throat at the idea that Yoongi would just willingly put himself back in danger because-- because why, because he thought he was inconveniencing Jaehwan, because he didn't want to be there anymore, because... Just because? “I'd just. Prefer you took your time with it.”

Yoongi nodded at him, but Jaehwan swallowed hard at the sight of him. He'd gotten out of the shower an hour ago, and his hair was drying in soft, fine fluff around his head. His eyes were narrow and his lips were small, his hands were small and his shoulders were narrow but Jaehwan knew better than to think Yoongi was _weak._ Just because his bastard uncle could overpower him didn't mean that Yoongi was weak. No, Yoongi was strong, physically and mentally, to put up with what he did without cracking in half. Jaehwan knew he would have broken up years ago, probably. His own parents were strict, but they only ever lashed out to really hurt him when he'd really fucked up, like when he asked why Yunho and Jaejoong were kissing, or when he asked why it mattered to them if gays and lesbians got married. He'd figured out to stop talking about it, but he found himself thinking about it more and more often.

Yunho and Jaejoong had moved out of the park a long time ago, but they used to live across the street. Jaehwan liked them, they had dogs and they both worked in the city and when the ice cream truck came around on Saturdays and the kids were out, they'd buy them ice cream just because. Jaehwan had liked them a lot, and he had no idea why they'd moved away. Or at least, he hadn't at the time, but now that he was older, he could remember eggs being thrown, stones through windows. Tires being cut. Horrible, mean things and Jaehwan had known as a child, on some fundamental level, that if he didn't want those bad things to happen to him, he couldn't be like Yunho, or Jaejoong.

~

“My mom's getting married,” Yoongi said, and Jaehwan stopped reading, set his comic down to look at him with all of his attention.

“Oh, to the guy you went out to dinner with?” Daewon. Kim Daewon, Yoongi had said.

“Yeah.”

“Was he a nice guy?”

“Yeah. Really nice. She was really happy.”

“Then it's good, right?” Jaehwan said, feeling like he might choke. There was more to this, there had to be, Yoongi didn't just tell people things like that without a follow up. “What is it.”

“She wants me to move in with them.”

“Where?” Move? Yoongi? Moving away?

“He lives out by the college. His house is paid for and stuff. Mom said she's gonna try and get Jihoon home.”

“...That's good too, right?” No, no it was Not Good, it wasn't good at all, and Jaehwan felt his heart ripping at the insides of his ribcage and Yoongi nodded and smiled that tight-jawed smile he did when he wasn't sure if he was really happy about something.

“Yeah,” Yoongi said. “Yeah, it is.”

~

The concert had been excellent. Jaehwan hadn't fucked up his solo like he'd been so scared about and Yoongi had come and it was the last show of the year and he felt like he was _flying,_ he was so happy, with himself, with the world at large. “Aaah I'm so hyped up! Maybe I'll go for a run or something, aaah,” Jaehwan hopped up and down, pulling off his vest and button-down to leave himself in his undershirt, because he was going to go running and he couldn't go running in his nice show clothes, _obviously_. “Oh, shorts,” he headed down to his room to get said shorts, to yank them on and pull on proper shoes, a t-shirt over his head because he didn't want to get _too_ cold running around in just a tank top, that would suck.

“You wanna come?” he asked, heading back out into the living room to see his best friend sitting there, staring out into the space between himself and the entertainment center. “...Yoongi?”

“Huh?” Yoongi looked over at him and Jaehwan cocked his head. Worried, but not worried enough to make a big deal about it.

“Do you want to come? I'm gonna go for a jog.”

“No,” Yoongi shook his head and Jaehwan nodded. Yoongi hated exercising, he should have figured that would be his answer. “Nah, it's fine, you go ahead. I'll be here when you get back.”

“Okay,” Jaehwan smiled, heading out the door into the cool early summer air to jog. He never wore headphones when he went running (since he was paranoid of getting run over) but he did hum to himself, finding a song that followed the rhythm of his run so he didn't sound breathless. He wasn't anticipating running out into anyone-- it was almost eleven, after all-- but he found himself loping up to Jang Hyunseung, who was seven years older than he was, and skinnier.

“Hyunseung!” he chirped, catching up to where Hyunseung was shaking out his hair and pushing his headband back into it. Hyunseung turned to look at him and smiled a little.

“Hey kid, how'd your concert go?”

“If you knew I had a concert, how come you didn't come?” he asked, pouting, though he didn't really mean it. He knew Hyunseung worked second shift, he'd probably just gotten home a half an hour ago.

“Aah, don't try to make me feel guilty,” Hyunseung laughed, raking his fingers back through his hair. “How was it?”

“Really good,” he nodded, jogging slowly alongside the older man. “I think Taekwoon had it recorded, so maybe I'll get you a copy soon?”

“I'd like that,” he said, and Jaehwan knew he wasn't lying. Hyunseung... Everyone said he was bad, but he'd never been bad, not even when Jaehwan was a kid. Hyunseung had been their older brother, all of them had looked up to him, they depended on him to walk them home from school, to help with their homework on Sundays when they all worked out at the picnic tables near the entrance to the park.

Then Hyunseung had been arrested and their parents wouldn't let them see him anymore.

Jaehwan had learned later, that Hyunseung had been arrested for attacking his sister's boyfriend. He didn't know a lot of the specifics, but he knew Hyunseung wouldn't hurt anyone without a reason, and he knew Hyuna had bad taste in men (or at least, that was what his mother said.)

“How's everything else going, huh?”

“Good,” Jaehwan said, pausing. “Hyunseung?”

“Mm?”

“Di... How do you... Know. If you're...”

“If you're what,” Hyunseung asked, stopping to look at him with all of his attention. Jaehwan felt very small under the gaze of those wide, half-empty eyes.

“If you… Like boys?”

Hyunseung blinked at him. “...Have you tried kissing one?”

“No,” he admitted, blushing fiercely. “I've never kissed anyone.”

“No one? Ever?”

“Stop it, it's embarrassing!”

Hyunseung laughed brightly. “Oh man, you're so cute. Well, my suggestion is, find a boy, kiss him, see if you like it and if you do, well. You like boys. No big deal.”

“It's a big deal to my parents,” Jaehwan muttered, and Hyunseung's smile softened. He drew Jaehwan in with an arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair with his free hand.

“What your parents don't know won't hurt them.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What? Me? Wouldn't that be like kissing your brother?”

Jaehwan had thought that about Yoongi until very recently, so maybe that wasn't the be all and end all of everything. He just wanted to kiss-- someone, because if he kissed Yoongi and something went wrong his life was going to be _over._

“Hey,” Hyunseung said, and Jaehwan jerked back into reality, blinking at him. “Look. I don't... Think I'm the best person for this, exactly,” but he was moving, and Jaehwan was breathless because he was so close and smelled like warm, clean sweat and cigarillo smoke. He was so _nervous_ but Hyunseung cupped his face with one hand. His fingers were cool and dry. “I'm only going to do this once, okay?”

“Okay,” Jaehwan whispered, and he closed his eyes.

~

As it turned out, kissing Hyunseung left Jaehwan's knees weak and his heart racing.

~

“You know I love you, right?”

“You are so drunk,” Jaehwan said, thoroughly done with his drunk best friend and his antics, struggling to get him into pajamas so he could get his dumb ass to bed. “Shut up.”

“No, I mean it,” Yoongi said, smiling his stupid, gummy smile, the one Jaehwan loved so much because it made him look so young and happy. “I mean it, Jaehwan. I love you.” He held on to Jaehwan's shoulders and Jaehwan looked down at him, hoped Yoongi couldn't see the nerves racing up and down his back, couldn't see the desperate want and fear in his face. “I love you.”

“I think you should go to sleep,” Jaehwan said, and Yoongi pouted. Jaehwan wanted to kiss his lips, wanted to tuck back his hair, but drunk words didn't mean anything, he couldn't trust them, he knew that. Yoongi was _drunk._

“Jaehwan~” Yoongi whined, kicking his legs like a toddler. “Don't go~”

“Goodnight, Yoongi,” he murmured, getting up to leave, smiling at him from the doorframe. “Sleep tight.”

When the door closed, Jaehwan felt his heart clench so hard he gasped, and he didn't see Jihoon standing at the second landing of the stairs, watching him.

~

Taekwoon welcomed him into the new apartment he shared with Hakyeon, even though Jaehwan was sure he looked like a personified stormcloud, all tight and tense and unhappy. He motioned Jaehwan to the couch. “You want a drink?” he asked, and Jaehwan nodded, lip chewed between his teeth. “What's wrong?”

Jaehwan pressed the water bottle against his forehead and thought for a long few minutes about what it was he wanted to say, and how he was going to say it.

“...Yoongi moved away. His mom got married.”

“Oh,” Taekwoon said, settling back into his chair. “And... That's bad?”

“I don't know,” Jaehwan confessed, rubbing at his eyes. “I just. I don't know what. He. He said he loved me,” Jaehwan spat it out like it was something distasteful and he didn't mean it, he didn't mean it like that just that Yoongi had been _drunk_ and they hadn't _seen_ one another since it was like Yoongi was _avoiding_ him and it _hurt._ Jaehwan got more upset the longer he spoke, his voice raising dangerously into the territory of hysterics. He'd always been so over-reactive. “He said he loved me, he was drunk, I'm so _mad--_ ”

“Woah, wait, back up,” Taekwoon said, looking at Jaehwan somewhat queerly.“He what? Are you sure?”

“Don't know how I could have mistaken it,” Jaehwan said, eyes watering as he put his hands over his forehead. “He said it straight to my face. Three times.”

“When?”

“Two weeks ago,” Jaehwan said, sliding his hands down to cover his face like that would hide his confusion and his fear and his... Unsureness. “Two weeks ago. After his mom's wedding. He was drunk, I was just trying to get him into bed and then he looked at me, oh my god, Taekwoon, I didn't know what to do, I didn't say anything.”

“...So you didn't... Say anything at all? Nothing?”

“I said goodnight,” Jaehwan said, and he wanted to throw himself off a cliff. Why hadn't he kissed Yoongi then, why hadn't he kissed his forehead and murmured goodnight and _stayed_ with him, why had he _panicked._ “Taekwoon. Taekwoon what do I _do._ ”

“Well,” Taekwoon said, speaking very slowly as though he didn't want any of his words to be misheard in any way. “Do... Do you like him, Jaehwan? Like he likes you?”

“Loves me,” Jaehwan corrected, absolutely miserable, despite the way his heart sort of ached when he thought about it. _Yoongi said he loves me._

_Yeah, and I didn't do jack shit._

“He might not have meant it like that, Jaehwan--”

“Yoongi doesn't say he loves anyone except his mom and his brother. Ever. He doesn't want to. He's scared of it.” Jaehwan had known that since they were kids. Yoongi said, when he was thirteen, that he never said “I love you” to anyone except his mom and his little brother. That was it.

“But he said he loved you.”

“He was drunk.”

“But he said it.”

“He was intoxicated, I can't believe something he says when he's drunk--”

“Have you talked to him since then?”

Jaehwan folded in on himself, pressed his hands to his face and bent over to bury himself in his knees. God, he felt stupid. Fucking stupid and pathetic and he _hated_ himself.

“You should really talk to him, Jaehwan. I can't... I can't fix it. But he might be able to.”

“But I'm not gay,” Jaehwan said, even though he wasn't sure it was true, sitting up to rub at his eyes. “What if he can't be friends with me anymore? What if he doesn't _want_ to be friends with me anymore, Taekwoon, I can't-- I can't handle that, I need him, he's my _friend._ ”

“I think...” Taekwoon licked his lips, and got up to ruffle Jaehwan's hair. “I think you need to talk to him. And when you're done talking to him, you can come and talk to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Jaehwan whispered, his voice weak.

“Okay. Come on, lets watch a movie or something. Hakyeon will get mad at me if he comes home and you look like you've been crying.”

“Okay,” he said, and he was grateful that Taekwoon was going to let him hide from it, for just a few minutes longer.

~

As it turned out, the summer was really lonely, without Yoongi.

Jaehwan spent a lot of time at Sandeul's house. Sandeul was one of the only out gay kids at school; he was unapologetic, brash and loud, aggressive when he needed to be and absolutely fearless. Jaehwan was jealous of him, and it probably showed, because it was Sandeul who sat in his lap and looked down at him.

“So. What's the face for?”

“What face, and why are you sitting in my lap, get off of me--”

“The face you make when you're staring out into nothing like you're trying to trick me into thinking you're paying attention but you're really thinking about something else,” Sandeul said, smiling. “Who are you thinking about.”

“No one,” Jaehwan muttered.

“Liar~” Sandeul accused. “Come on. You've never hung out with me so much before, so why don't you let me guess, hm? It can't be Hakyeon and Taekwoon, you know where they live, and you can take a bus there. Mmm. It's not Hongbin and Wonsik, because they're both still here-- aah,” Sandeul smiled, and Jaehwan stiffened. “It's Yoongi, hm? He moved away, didn't he?”

“So what,” Jaehwan said, and Sandeul laughed.

“Oh, Jaehwan you're so. Transparent.”

“What is that supposed to mean,” he hissed, and Sandeul cupped his face, cooed.

“Shh, shh, don't get mad, huh? So you like Yoongi, that's okay. Is he into boys?”

“I don't... Know.”  
“Aah,” Sandeul nodded and spread his legs and Jaehwan felt his throat tighten, because Sandeul's soft body was pressed to his and it felt good, it felt really good. He was fleshy but not feminine, and he had strong hands. “And you're worried about it, since he's gone now. You couldn't confess anyway.”

That was sort of it, but at the same time wasn't it at all, and Jaehwan thought about Hyunseung, _I'm only gonna do this once,_ and smiled up at Sandeul, strangely... Predatory.

“Can I play with you, in the meantime?”

“Play?” Sandeul asked, and Jaehwan was rewarded by the way Sandeul pressed his hips down and forward. He tipped his head back to groan and Sandeul snapped his teeth near Jaehwan's ear. “Oh, I'll play with you, Lee Jaehwan,” he said, and Jaehwan couldn't help but to moan softly, eyes closed. “I will _play_ with you.”

Sandeul's definition of play was to lay naked in his bed for hours on end, touching, tasting, feeling one another out while Jaehwan tried hard not to think about doing that same thing with Yoongi. Sandeul was warm where Yoongi was chilly, his hands were big where Yoongi's were small. But Sandeul felt really good and he helped Jaehwan to feel really good so he didn't let himself think too hard about it.

He didn't want to think.

He didn't want to think.

~

The little red welts on Jaehwan's arm moved up to the inside of his bicep, because he liked the way they rubbed against his shirt and torso. He snapped every time he thought about Yoongi, he snapped every time he masturbated, every time he pressed his hips up against his hand and gasped _Sandeul, Yoongi,_ _ **Yoongi--**_

And when it wasn't enough he picked up an exacto knife and pulled it over the red, tender skin and watched himself bleed.

~

Sandeul didn't say anything about the ace bandage wrapped around Jaehwan's upper arm. He didn't say anything but Jaehwan knew he wondered, because his lips lingered a little longer on his neck, against his mouth; because Sandeul was more tender and Jaehwan didn't want that. He had daydreams about Yoongi pulling at his hair, biting at his mouth and the first time he flipped Sandeul onto his back and sucked hard at his throat, pushed his hips down hard enough to make the bed creak he was rewarded with Sandeul pulling at his hair, yanking him up to bite his mouth, and fuck.

Fuck, that was what he wanted. His hands gripped Sandeul's hips hard enough to bruise, and it was exactly what he wanted.

Only it wasn't who he wanted.

Not at all.

~

Two weeks before school started, Jaehwan was dragged out to his grandmother's house. He didn't want to see her. She _hated_ him, and he didn't like her, but his parents made him, and he sat sullenly in the back seat, daydreaming about Sandeul's ass cradling his cock and Yoongi's thin lips around his tip. His daydreams were violent and sexual and they frightened him a little so he tried not to linger in them for too long. A part of him insisted it was only because he _wanted_ so much, but another part of him thought back to Health class last year, when their teacher was talking about how rapists were always using power to get what they wanted. _Rape isn't about sex, it's about power,_ he'd said, and Jaehwan was so afraid that what he wanted was power over Yoongi. He was so afraid that he just wanted him because he could, because Yoongi would _let_ him. Probably.

The trip to his Grandmother's was agony, and he spent most of it at the beach, sitting out by himself, thinking about his best friend, who moved away-- about his other friend, whom he'd been... Having brutal encounters with, and wondered what the _fuck_ was wrong with him.

Because something had to be wrong.

It had to be.

~

When school started, Jaehwan took to walking home alone. He didn't want to be around other people. He didn't want to listen to them chatter or laugh or see them being happy and silly because he felt like a part of him _died_ with the realization that what he wanted from his friend-- from Yoongi. Was awful and horrific and there was no way he could ever ask him for it. He'd stopped seeing Sandeul, though at least he'd managed to laugh that off, _we had a good time, huh?_ And Sandeul had agreed, giving him one last smooch on the mouth before the two of them sat to watch a movie, and do nothing else.

But he should have known he wouldn't have that much peace and quiet for long.

“Jaehwan,” he heard Yoongi yell, and he stopped walking. “Jaehwan! Hey, wait up!”

Jaehwan turned around. He pulled his sleeves down around his hand and watched as Yoongi jogged a little faster, catching up, offering a weak smile.

“Hey,” he said. “Hey, how's it going?”

“It's fine,” Jaehwan said, pulling harder on his shirtsleeves and wishing he was anywhere but there, at the moment.

“Doesn't look fine,” Yoongi said, tentative.

“I'm fine.” If he said it enough, it would be true.

“Do you mind if I walk home with you?”

“Don't you live somewhere else now? Shouldn't you be walking there instead?” Jaehwan's voice was sharper than he meant for it to be. But he was so scared, and mad, and mostly scared-- he didn't want to put Yoongi in a position where he could get hurt and Jaehwan was so scared _he_ would be the one doing the hurting.

“What's with that, huh?” he asked. “I can't walk home with you? It's not like I can't ask my mom to pick me up.” His voice was light, but Jaehwan scrambled for any excuse, no, he didn't want to be alone with Yoongi, he didn't want to pin him to a wall and fuck him limp, until all he could see smell taste was Jaehwan, until he got him to sing those fucking words _I love you I love you I love you_ and fucking mean them.

“Why don't you just go home, Yoongi,” Jaehwan said. Getting Yoongi angry would make him go away. He knew that. He had years of practice watching Yoongi; he knew how to push his buttons.l

“I'm asking you if you want to talk about what's _wrong--_ ”

“Nothing is wrong!” Jaehwan nearly shouted, and he turned to stalk away before Yoongi could reply, his heart pounding, his jaw clenched. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong, nothing was wrong, nothing was wrong.

And Yoongi didn't follow him.

And Jaehwan couldn't blame anyone but himself for how much his heart ached.

~

_I don't know what to do about Yoongi. Every time I see him at school we go out of our way to avoid each other. I guess it's good we don't have any classes together this semester, though I might not get so lucky in the spring. I wish I knew what the fuck was going on with myself. I'm freaked out. On the one hand I want to kiss Yoongi until he's hard and begging but on the other hand I want to pin him down and fuck him until he's screaming and it scares me. I want him. I ~~'m not sure~~ I love him, but I know I want to fuck him until he's limp and that's bad, right? That's dangerous. That's the kind of thing that gets people hurt. I don't want to be like Hyuna's boyfriend, I don't want to-- to hurt Yoongi. I mean I do, but not in a bad way. I want to make him sore and happy, not... Overpower him and hurt him. It's not the same. _

_Is it?_

~

“I don't know what to tell you, kid,” Hyunseung said, sitting on his front porch with Jaehwan. “It all sounds... Pretty intense, if you ask me. Have you talked to him?”

“Not since I yelled at him,” Jaehwan muttered, and Hyunseung chuckled.

“Well. I think you need to try again. Maybe with less yelling. Go somewhere private, where the two of you can talk and just don't... Don't let your temper get the better of you, okay? Cos if you lost your shit, he's gonna lose his shit, and then it's all gonna be fucked up forever, you know?”

“Mm.”

“Go on, scram. Do it on a Friday, though,” he said, as one last piece of advice. “That way if the two of you manage to work it out, you have all weekend to fuck it out of your systems.”

“Hyunseung!” Jaehwan flushed deeply, but nodded anyway. That was probably a good idea, as much as it made him somewhat uncomfortable. He stepped off the porch and blinked when the door opened. He turned to look and saw a wiry man standing there, with catlike eyes and long, dark hair.

“See you later, kid,” Hyunseung said, and Jaehwan nodded, tried not to stare as the man with the long hair all but dragged Hyunseung inside, the door locking behind him and the unmistakable sound of a body slamming back into it following shortly after.


	8. Juno and Bobby.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> juno and bobby have a fucked up relationship, but both of them kind of love it. and that's fucked up, too.

You could take the boy out of the park, but you couldn't take the park out of the boy, so Bobby wasn't surprised that he'd ended up back in a trailer park, honestly. He liked the loosely-woven community, the knowledge that everyone else's lives were as shit as yours, and the fact that all of you came out tough as nails at the end of it.

Juno was a surprise, though.

Juno was all spitfire and spite. He had a chip on his shoulder and he wasn't afraid to show it. He blazed bright as sunfire and Bobby, who grew up alone in the dark, wanted to stay in that light forever. When it was good it was so good, Juno's soft burn a glow, his arms a haven, his lips on Bobbys tender and full of love.

But sometimes it wasn't good. Like the proverbial unstoppable force and immovable object, the two of them clashed, fought, shoved, screamed and even then Bobby thought Juno was beautiful, if terrifying. It wasn't that he couldn't take any verbal abuse Juno spat. Most of that was fear disguised as anger, Bobby could recognize that. Juno was a master manipulator and a liar, besides, but that didn't bother Bobby.

What bothered him was his own capacity for brutal violence. Bobby grew up fighting with fists, not words and when Juno pushed too far, told one lie too many, Bobby's fists turned on him.

In the heat of their fights, the wild blue of adrenaline and the sound of Juno shouting, Bobby lost his words and found his fists.

His wrists were covered in scars from Juno's fingernails, crescents for gripping and raked furrows for clawing. More than once, Bobby had been the cause of Juno's black eye, the bruises on his arms and neck. He gripped him too hard. Shouted back with simple words because he didn't speak the language of manipulators the way Juno did. He couldn't fight Juno on equal ground with words so he leveled the field with violence.

Juno sometimes fought back. He wasn't weak, not at all but he wasn't as strong as Bobby. He bared his teeth and hit and kicked but it was very rare that Bobby was the one on the floor, holding himself where it hurt most.

It was always Bobby who came to his senses first. It was Bobby who stepped back, stepped away, left. Bobby ran and Juno cleaned up the wreckage, sometimes crying without sound as he cleared away broken track and field trophies, vacuumed the glass of shattered vases and the lost petals of the sweet-smelling weeds Bobby sometimes picked up on the side of the road on his way home. Juno never said anything when Bobby got back, tail between his legs. He never accused him of being a terrible lover, never once told him that he hated him.

Bobby always came back, and Juno always opened his arms and invited him in.

~

Juno's friends like to tell him that Bobby wasn't good enough for him. They liked to talk shit about things they didn't understand.

Bobby as the best thing that ever happened to Juno. They could slam one another into the floor and walls, could butt heads and scream and fight but Bobby wasn't scared of Juno, wouldn't let him get away with murder if he tried.

Juno loved Bobby desperately. If they were going to burn he wanted them to burn together, tearing at one another's hair, screaming, raking nails down over backs and fucking like animals until neither of them had the energy to care that everything was coming down around them.

Those were the moments Juno liked best. Bobby on top of him, smoothing his hands down Juno's arms (yanked up over his head and pinned there with a bruising grip), his lips soft anywhere they touched and Bobby's voice in his hair, against his neck _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Juno, I'm sorry, I love you--_

Juno would card his freed hands through Bobby's sweaty hair and drag him down for another wet, bruised kiss. “I love you,” he said, and he meant it, meant it in ways so deep and sincere he couldn't hope to put the emotions into words. 

~

“That's a nice bruise.”

“Shut up.”

“You and your boy toy get into it again?”

Juno gritted his teeth and focused on the numbers in front of him. He didn't discuss his private life with his nosy coworkers under the best of circumstances and he certainly wasn't going to talk to them about it just then, when his jaw and cheek ached and every breath he took smelled like blood. 

He deserved everything Bobby gave him. The shiner, the mean words, being abandoned at home without the keys to his shitty Honda because he'd left them on the seat of Bobby's truck and the truck had disappeared last night, with Bobby in the driver's seat, furious and half-drunk.

He couldn't even remember what they'd fought about. He'd been more than a little intoxicated himself and was still feeling the effects, vaguely sick and unable to concentrate. He was glad when the day was over, desperate to leave the office and the misunderstanding, pitying looks of his coworkers. 

He wanted to go home and be assured that Bobby was there, that he'd made it to and from work, that he was  _okay._

The bus ride was agony, his hood pulled up to hide his face as much as possible. The walk from the station to his house, their house, was twenty minutes of sheer agony. What if Bobby had crashed the truck, he'd been drunk too, what if he was hurt, or dead, or--

The relief that flooded through Juno at the sight of the truck in the driveway was beyond words. God, he was so fucking relieved. His steps were lighter as he got up onto the porch and tried the door. He'd locked it when he left, but the knob turned and he edged inside, taking off his shoes and Jacket before calling out for his lover. 

“Jiwon?” he asked, loosening his tie and walking down the narow hall to their bedroom. “Jiwon, baby?”

There he was.

Asleep on Juno's side of the bed, curled around his pillow and Juno's heart broke a little. “Jiwon,” he tried again. “Jiwon, wake up.” He bent to kiss Bobby's cheek, the corner of his mouth, and wasn't surprised when Bobby startled awake, maing a soft noise and reaching to pull Juno down, mumbling against his chest. 

“Love you,” he said, and Juno swallowed, shifting to be able to kiss Bobby's perfect mouth. 

“Love you too,” he whispered, resting on his forearms, legs parted over one of Bobby's thighs and letting Bobby kiss his bruised face, even though it hurt.

~

“You okay?” Hyunseung asked, and Bobby shrugged. 

“Doesn't hurt, if that's what you're asking.”

“It's not,” Hyunseung said, and Bobby pursed his lips and said nothing. Hyunseung didn't know them, but he lived nearby and no doubt he heard them fighting all the time. Bobby hadn't left the house this time. He'd left Juno bloody-nosed and staggering in the bathroom while he stalked out to the porch to smoke, huffing and puffing like a wolf of the Big Bad variety, his hands loose on top of his knees. 

“Is _he_ okay?”

“He will be.”

Hyunseung said nothing else, but he watched from his trailer window as Juno finally came out of the house to sit on the porch, his chest pressed to Bobby's back. Bobby reached over his shoulder to give Juno a drag from his cigarette.

~

“Ah,” Juno tipped his head to one side and Bobby bit his neck, enjoyed the way he whined and gripped at Bobby's shoulders. “Shit, hurts,” he complained, turning his head to press his cheek to Bobby's temple. “Hurts, Jiwon, stop.”

Bobby tutted and kissed the dark bruise he'd sucked into Juno's throat a few hours before and was currently making worse, licking the tender skin and humming in approval when Juno shuddered. The licks turned to kisses and Juno relaxed, warm and pliant under Bobby's body. He'd been brutally fucked not three hours earlier and he was still in so much  _pain_ , but Bobby had woken him up with kisses and he'd been all too willing to spread his legs like the slut he was for the one man he'd always open up for. Bobby didn't have to work to make Juno agree to sex. 

“On... Mmm, on your side, babe,” Bobby murmured, and lifted his weight away, his erection dragging against the inside of Juno's thigh as the younger man shifted to rest on his left side, using a pillow to keep himself upright. “Just like that, fuck, so good.”

“Mmm can't be, else your dick would be in me already,” Juno laughed low and soft and Bobby slapped his thigh. 

“I want to take my time, you impatient bitch. Calm down.”

Juno wiggled but said nothing, just twisted so he could look at Bobby as he got comfortable behind him, rubbed his dick against Juno's backside. “Close your legs,” Bobby murmured, and Juno did as he was asked, dropping his right leg and groaning when Bobby rocked his hips. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, shivering violently. 

“Mmm, nah,” Bobby murmured, reaching to wrap one arm under Juno's neck, the other braced on his belly. “Bet it still hurts from earlier huh. Don't lie.” Unashamed, Juno nodded and Bobby kissed his lips, slow and sweet like the rocking of his hips, his cock between Juno's strong thighs. “Love it when you're honest with me,” he murmured, sucking gently at Juno's bottom lip and tugging at the base of his cock. “Grab the lube.”

One shaking hand reached for their lubricant and Juno offered it back to Bobby before he paused. “The sheets,” he said, slurring a bit. 

“I'll change 'em when you shower,” he murmured, and Juno nodded, lifting his leg so Bobby could squirt a generous amount of (too much) lube on his thigh, making his skin a silky wet mess before putting his other leg down, letting them fold over one another into a tight, warm clench. “Fuck.”

“Mmm,” Juno sighed, reached between his legs to squeeze gently at his balls and gasped when Bobby twisted his shoulders, ducked his head under Juno's arm to kiss his chest, to lick at his nipple while he thrust his hips. “Aah, Jiwon--”

“Feels so good,” Bobby whispered, and Juno panted, nodding, giving a soft moan when Bobby's hips hit his so hard the slap echoed through the room. Juno was stroking himself in time with Bobby's thrusts, fingering at the tip of his cock in the way that made his head spin while Bobby thrust against him. 

“Ah, so fucking good, Jiwon, mm.” 

Bobby had a big cock, long and just a bit thicker than average, so in this position, spooned behind Juno and fucking his thighs, his cock dragged against the raw skin of his hole with every little thrust. He'd been brutal earlier. Too rough, he hadn't prepared Juno enough and he'd hurt him, torn him up just enough that the attempt to clean him out had caused him to gasp in pain, eyes bright and teary. 

(Juno could play tough all he wanted, but Bobby knew better.)

Still. That tiny slide of stimulation was enough to make Juno whimper and Bobby took advantage, fucking against him, forcing his cock in and out of the slippery vise of his thighs and the curve of his ass until he was so close to blowing his load he could taste it, and he bit hard into Juno's shoulder. Juno shouted and Bobby snarled, yanking away from him, jerking his body around to straddle his shoulders even as Juno panted, wild-eyed and still jerking himself  _my mouth my mouth cum in my mouth jiwon fuck--_

He pushed his tip past those fat, gorgeous lips and squeezed his balls, grunting as he came, one hand gripping the bedframe. He watched Juno swallow, watched him swallow again and then watched him swallow down his cock as he pushed forward, just once, just to see Juno looking up at him with watery eyes as he choked. 

“So good,” he breathed, getting down to lick Juno's stomach, gathering up a mouthful of cum before bringing it up to share with his lover, the two of them sharing the taste of themselves as they fisted their hands in one another's hair. Bobby pulled away first, sucking Juno's lip. 

“Shower,” he murmured, and Juno nodded, small and meek, unlike earlier when the two of them had been fighting in the living room and they'd broken the coffee table when they fell into it. It had collapsed under their combined weight and Bobby's back was still smarting over it, but he'd been more worried about Juno, whose left hand had twisted awkwardly. 

_I think it's sprained,_ he'd said, holding his wrist between his knees and trying not to cry. 

_I'll go get you a brace,_ Bobby had said, and when he'd come back from CVS he'd wrapped it around Juno's wrist and kissed his forearm and then his bicep and then his mouth and the two of them had fucked on the living room floor, too hard too fast for too long and Bobby hurt him  _again,_ so he'd tucked him into bed and now here he was and Juno was slowly getting up, his thighs sticking together. 

Bobby smiled over at him despite himself. There was a purpling bruise on Juno's hip-- Bobby was sure it matched the one on his own-- and there were bites and hickies and all measures of violence on Juno's skin but god, he was beautiful, and as he turned around Bobby's grin got brighter and Juno squinted at him. 

“What,” he asked, in that vaguely accusatory way. 

“You're beautiful,” he said, and Juno scoffed, muttering under his breath about morons with no control over their libido, but he still let Bobby into the shower when he finished re-making the bed, their sheets shoved into the washer. 

~

_Bobby fell._

That was all they would tell him on the phone when they called, Bobby's company. He worked construction on a per-job level and he'd been on this one for a long time, working with steel and fire and all sort of dangerous shit that could hurt him. But Bobby's boss had called Juno  _at work_ and said he'd fallen and Juno grabbed his bag and left the office without a second thought. 

He sped to the hospital, taking all the shortcuts he knew. His heart rabbited so hard he was sure he was going to die, his eyes wide with panic, taking in every detail as he managed to ask for  _Bobby-- Kim, Kim Jiwon, please_ and was given a room number. 

“He's in the ICU,” the secretary had said, clearly not impressed with the way Bobby was haphazardly dressed and flustered, his hands shaking as he took the piece of scrap paper. “He may not be able to receive visitors for a while.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, all but running to the elevator. He needed to see Bobby, he needed him, oh god--

_(Don't you fucking die on me Koo Juno_

_Fuck you, Bobby_

_That's my girl.)_

“Juno,” Bobby's boss, a friendly man of perhaps fifty with a big white beard and a sharp look to his eyes called Juno over and had him sit down. Juno couldn't focus on anything and it was with great effort that he forced all of his attention onto the man in front of him, instead of looking around for Bobby.

“Where's Jiwon?”

“He'll be fine,” the man said, and Juno didn't believe him. “He fell off the steel. He was only about fifteen feet in the air, his carabiner wasn't properly closed.”

_Fucking **idiot,**_ Juno trembled with frustrated anger. 

“He'll be all right. Pretty sure he just broke a few ribs, so he'll just have to stay off for a while, a month or so.” 

A month. A month without Bobby's income would have them behind on rent. All of Juno's money went into their cars, insurance, repairs. The cell phone bills, the electric and gas, buying food so they didn't fucking starve. 

“Okay,” Juno said, though he felt anything but. His eyes were starting to well and fuck, _fuck_ he hated crying, he hated crying but Bobby fell and hurt himself and he'd be out of work for a month and Juno'd spent enough time sleeping in a fucking cardboard box to know he never wanted to do it again, never oh _god--_

“He's going to get worker's comp for this,” the man said, as though he could read everything Juno wasn't saying, and perhaps he could. Juno wasn't nearly so opaque as he wanted to be. “So don't worry too much about money, all right. Just make sure he stays in bed.” 

Juno felt a rush of hate for that woman downstairs--  _ he might not be able to receive visitors-- _ and took a deep breath to calm himself. He was being irrational He wanted Bobby. “When. When can I see him?”

“I think this person will be able to tell us,” the man said, and Juno turned around to see a man in a white coat walking towards them. “Doctor.”

“Mister Park,” the man said, smiling. “And you are?”

“Koo Juno-- Juno. Koo. I'm-- I'm Jiwon's. Partner.” 

“Aah,” the man nodded, almost to himself. “Well. The good news is, he's fine. And he's asking for you, Juno, so why don't you go and speak to him while I discuss with Mister Park.”

Juno took the chance and ran down the hall before anyone could tell him he couldn't go. Bobby's room was on the left and he turned into it, fought down a sob when he saw Bobby lying there in a hospital bed, hooked up to a bunch of-- of fucking  _ machines  _ but he was smiling, waving him over, waiting for him. 

“I told them not to call you,” he said, reaching out for Juno's hand. “I told them you'd just worry yourself to death.”

“You're a fucking moron,” Juno hissed, and Bobby kissed his knuckles, because Juno had given his hand, anyway. “I can't fucking believe you, _falling off a steel beam._ ”

“But I'm fine,” he promised. “I was wearing my helmet, the carabiner just wasn't... I dunno. Something wrong with it. It felt all right when I put it on, but.”

“I _hate you._ ”

Bobby looked up at Juno and smiled sadly at the sight of his tears, reaching to grip him by the back of the neck and pull him down “Hey. Hey, hey baby, I'm okay. I'm gonna be okay, you know? It's okay.” Juno sniffled grossly and grabbed a chair, sat down to press his face into Bobby's shoulder and just breathe in the smell of him, his skin. “Please don't cry,” Bobby whispered, and Juno nodded, taking in a hard breath to keep himself from crying like a hysterical child. Fuck, he'd been so  _ scared.  _ The last time he'd gotten a call like that, his parents had been in a car accident and they were  _ dead.  _

“I'm okay, Juno. It's okay. Please don't cry.”

~

Six days later, Juno bit his cheek hard enough to bleed as he fought not to scream at Bobby for the mess he'd made in the kitchen and the living room. Fuck, what was he, a fucking animal? Raised in a fucking barn? Actually that was _probably_ true. He'd readied himself to get into a fucking fight (another fight, another  _ fucking  _ fight) with Bobby but he was on the couch, laid out, tucked in and frowning gently in his sleep and Juno felt his stomach tighten because-- Because Bobby was there at all, because he'd fallen off a steel beam and landed on his side instead of his head or his neck. He was lucky. He was lucky he hadn't broken his neck or his spine and quietly, very quietly, Juno started to clean up the mess in living room, trying very hard to be quiet. 

He didn't want to wake him. 

~

“C'mere, baby.” 

Juno scowled, but Bobby was leaning against their headboard with his arms open and Juno crawled up into them, feeling very small and very tired. He'd been working late the last three weeks-- workers comp or not, he couldn't relax, not when the hospital bill was coming-- and he was so fucking tired. So tired. 

He rested his head on Bobby's shoulder and tried not to put too much weight on his chest, despite how Bobby tried to pull him down closer, slipped hands up the back of his shirt. 

“Juno,” he complained, but Juno sat up, pushing back his own hair. 

“You're gonna rebreak your ribs,” he said, even though there was nothing he wanted more than to rest with Bobby, to touch him, to kiss him and hold him and _fuck_ him until they were both too exhausted to move. 

“I am not,” Bobby said, and Juno looked down at him, unimpressed. “I'm not, Juno. Come on, please? Can't we at least jerk off or something, you haven't fucking touched me in weeks--” Bobby halted himself and Juno pursed his lips. No strenuous physical activity, the doctor had said, and sex between himself and Bobby was definitely strenuous, at best. 

“The doctor said--”

“I _know_ what the doctor said,” Bobby replied, his voice tight. “Don't make me beg, Juno. Don't.”

Juno swallowed. The bandages wrapped around Bobby's ribs made him nervous but he got up and off the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and hanging it over the back of the desk chair to wear the next day or the day after, depending on the laundry situation. He pulled off his tank top and unbuttoned his slacks, letting them drop around his legs before grabbing the waist of his brand-name briefs. 

“Jiwon,” he said, hesitant.

“What.”

“...nothing,” he said, getting up onto the bed and moving to pull down Bobby's pajama bottoms. He didn't wear anything underneath, it was too much trouble trying to keep everything clean. “Come on, lay down.”

Juno rides Bobby, so careful of his ribs so it's slow and lazy and careful. Bobby hated it, but Juno didn't care, infinitely more concerned about the long-term effects of what they were doing, rather than Bobby's immediate need to get off once a fucking day. 

Juno tucked Bobby into bed when they were done. He wiped off his sweat and cleaned up his groin and put him to bed like a child despite his grumbling. He went to the bathroom to shower and paused. He stared at himself in the mirror for a very long time. His bruises were nearly gone and he found that... He missed them, in a way. The proof that Bobby touched him, that Bobby  _ felt  _ something for him. It was a tangible reminder. That Bobby fucked him, that Bobby hated it when he lied, that Bobby loved the way he spread his legs and he missed them. The marks Bobby left on him were proof that he cared, no matter how awful that care could be. He still  _ cared.  _ And that was more than Juno got out of anyone, except his parents. They were dead now, but they'd left him with the same kind of care-marks.

_ That's fucked up,  _ he thought to himself, touching his hip where the bruise from the coffee table was finally faded to a gnarly yellow and green.  _ That is fucked up, Koo Juno.  _

 

 


	9. Jimin.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which jimin is in way over his head, but he doesn't care.

Jimin had taken to Taehyung immediately.

They were both incoming freshman the year Jimin moved to the park (his parents, trying to save money for Jimin's college fund and also paying off their student loans had opted to move from an apartment into a trailer to give Jimin the extra space a boy as active as he was needed). Taehyung was nice, friendly and silly. It wasn't that he didn't seem strange to Jimin, because he was strange; it was just that his strangeness didn't cause Jimin to think he couldn't be a good friend.

The two of them were like vines growing around a tree. Sometimes they parted, but they always came back to one another, for kisses, for comfort, and eventually for sex. Jimin was experienced; he'd grown up in the inner city, he knew what he was doing even at sixteen, and Taehyung seemed to enjoy it, so he never questioned it. But sometimes he wondered, when Taehyung started to seem very far away, or when he disappeared under the rosebush... Those times, Jimin wondered what had happened, and whether or not Taehyung was really okay.

~

“Taehyung.”

“Mm?”

“Do you want to take a bath?”

“A bath?”

“Yeah, in the bathtub. The big one in the back bathroom.”

“Isn't that your parent's bathroom?”

“My parents are gone for a conference for the next five days.”

“...Lets go take a bath.”

Jimin laughed and Taehyung held his hand, let Jimin lead him to the large back bathroom where they slipped into the large tub and spent the next two hours kissing, touching, and singing cheesy eighties ballads to one another.

Jimin really liked the sound of Taehyung's voice.

~

It could have been called instinct. Jimin's parents were both involved in recovery. His father was a child psychologist and his mother a therapist specializing in trauma recovery. Between them, Jimin grew up to be a very well-educated and intelligent young man, though he tried not to let it show too much. It was embarrassing to be so smart, especially with the things he was smart about. He didn't want to get made fun of, but sometimes it was nice to just... Observe and focus his attention.

He figured out, after a few trysts with Taehyung, that Taehyung must have been sexually abused. He didn't let himself close his eyes, not even when they were kissing. He preferred to be on top, even when Jimin was the one penetrating, and he always insisted on holding Jimin's wrists or hands, as though to keep him still.

Not that Jimin minded. Taehyung was warm and soft and he liked him a lot, so no matter what happened, Jimin wanted to be able to stay close to him. Even if it meant not saying anything about the way Taehyung sometimes drifted away from himself. Jimin didn't think anyone else noticed, and maybe he only noticed because his parents sometimes talked about the symptoms of PTSD and other forms of illness as a result of trauma. Taehyung seemed to disappear from himself.

Sometimes, Jimin was able to tug him back with kisses to his mouth and neck, with his hands up Taehyung's back to rub his neck while he cooed into his hair. Sometimes Taehyung came back to Jimin and it made Jimin feel... Like a sunflower was opening because there was Taehyung, his Taehyung.

Jimin knew long-term relationships weren't really the best for people their age. He knew Taehyung was having sex with Yoongi, but he also knew that Yoongi was just trying to figure himself out. His anxiety was written all over his face when he went into Taehyung's house. It was kind of cute, honestly, but Jimin couldn't bring himself to tease Yoongi over it. Instead he just made sure he didn't walk in on anything awkward, and spent as much time with Taehyung as he could.

~

He'd been gone for the weekend, when Taehyung was taken to the hospital. Taehyung's grandmother called him on his cell phone and asked if he could please come home, if there was any way for him to do so. He'd managed to ask what was wrong before his brain caught up and realized that something must have happened to Taehyung.

“Is he okay?”

“I think you need to come home, Jimin.”

Jimin _begged_ his parents for a bus pass to go home from the convention they were attending, and they'd given it to him along with kisses and requests that he keep them updated as much as possible. Jimin caught the first bus back home and met Taehyung's grandmother at the hospital, reaching out for her and finding himself crying. 

“Oh, oh, shh,” she murmured, reaching up from her chair to hug his shoulders and pat his hair. “Shh, it's all right. He'll be all right.”

Jimin didn't believe it. He looked so small, there in the bed. He didn't look like he recognized them at all and Jimin, for as smart as he was, for as much as he knew, didn't know what to  _do._

“Taehyung?” he asked, and Taehyung blinked, stared at him. “Taehyung,” he tried again. “Hi.”

Jimin wasn't sure when he started crying. Just that he was crying and it was terrible, it hurt, because Taehyung was there but he wasn't  _there,_ he was somewhere else and it was awful, it was horrific, Taehyung was right in front of him but somehow so far away he couldn't hope to reach him. He should have told someone. He should have told someone this happened, he should have told someone that Taehyung needed help—

Taehyung offered out his hand and Jimin took it, dropping into a chair beside the bed and pressing his cheek to Taehyung's palm, kissing his wrist, his fingertips.

After a long, long time, Taehyung's grandmother went to go to the bathroom, and Taehyung turned to look down at Jimin, cupping his hand over his cheek.  _I'm fine,_ he'd been saying for the last two hours.  _I'm fine._

But when Jimin looked up to see him, he saw tears and a pretty, boxy smile warped by misery.

“I'm not okay, Jimin,” he said, breathless, gasping. “I'm not okay, I'm not okay, I'm not okay, Jimin, please--”

Jimin got up close to the bed and pressed Taehyung to him, let him make heavy, choking sobs into his chest and said nothing; just smoothed his hair and kissed his temples and held his hand, as tight as he could. There was nothing else he could do.

So he stayed.

~

The house had been cleaned up, which Jimin was grateful for. The broken coffee table, the broken glass and blood, all of it was gone, and Taehyung wandered into the house without hesitation, holding Jimin's hand. He refused to be parted from him, once they left the hospital. On some levels, Jimin knew that wasn't really healthy, but he also knew that Taehyung was very frightened and felt very alone and he didn't want to make it any worse. Besides, it was nice to hold his hand.

“Will you stay the night,” he asked, and Jimin nodded, didn't even think of saying no. The two of them watched pointless television and after Taehyung's grandmother went to sleep, they took a shower. Chaste hands, chaste kisses, and when Jimin was tucking them both into bed, Taehyung started to talk.

“I don't... I didn't think anything he did was bad,” he said, his voice surprisingly small against Jimin's chest. Jimin rubbed his shoulder, kissed his hair in silent encouragement even though he knew he shouldn't. God, he was already in so deep. This was so dangerous. “I didn't even think about it. Not when he did it, not... Not when she did it, either. I don't... Know why. It didn't... Hurt. Feel bad. He scared me, but he. Didn't _hurt_ me.”

“...I think,” Jimin started, trying to remember how to speak. “I think it hurt in ways you didn't understand, Taehyung. You were too young to understand why it was hurting you.”

“He scared me,” Taehyung whispered, and Jimin felt him bite his lip, squeeze his eyes closed. “It hurt. It _hurt,_ Jimin, I. It's never hurt like that before. He said--”

Jimin braced himself.

“He said that's what I got for, for running away from him. I didn't run away, I didn't, it's not my fault, I didn't do anything, I--”

Bracing himself for an imminent panic attack, Jimin hummed under his breath and held Taehyung lightly, not wanting him to feel _trapped,_ like Jimin was trying to hold him down. He hummed a cheesy eighties ballad and after a few moments of hard breathing Taehyung hummed with him, until his eyes were lightly closed and his mouth was relaxed and he was asleep, head resting in Jimin's neck, their skin separated by t-shirts and sweatpants, just as it should be.

As Taehyung slept against him, Jimin thought about how absolutely fucked he was.

~

“I don't want to,” Taehyung said, breath gasping in and out. “I don't want to, Jimin I don't want to I don't want to--”

“It's okay,” Jimin murmured. “It's okay, Taehyung. I'm going to be in there, my parents are going to be there. We won't let anything happen to you, okay? We won't let him touch you.”

Taehyung was to be called as a witness in the court case his dead mother's lover was facing. Taehyung was hardly the only child he'd taken vicious advantage of but he was one of the most... Most abused. Jimin could see in Taehyung's face that he didn't like that. Being called _abused,_ like he thought it meant something was wrong with him.

“I'll be right there.”

“I'm scared,” Taehyung whispered, and Jimin kissed his cheeks, his eyelids and temples.

“It's okay to be scared, Taehyung. Just know that we're here for you, okay? Everything is going to be all right.”

Taehyung nodded jerkingly and held tight to Jimin's hand, even as they entered the courtroom and sat down. Jimin tried his best to be comforting, tried to let Taehyung know he wasn't alone, not at all. Jimin was there, Namjoon and Seokjin were there. They would protect him, they loved him.

He would be all right.

~

That night, Jimin and Taehyung laid on Jimin's bedroom floor, the lights of his galaxy-display lamp twinkling brightly across the walls and ceiling. It was a school night, and the two of them should have been sleeping but instead they were watching the stars, listening to soft flute music and holding hands beneath the duvet they were covered with.

“Jimin?” Taehyung asked.

“Mm,” Jimin said, turning to let his lips rest in Taehyung's hair.

“We're the center of the universe, right now.”

Jimin laughed, turned to kiss Taehyung softly on the mouth. For the first time ever, he saw Taehyung close his eyes as he moved in, their lips slipping together, fingers in one another's hair.

Taehyung was going to be okay.

Jimin was going to help him, and they were going to be okay.

"Hey, Taehyung," he said, and Taehyung tilted his head to hear him.

"Mm?"

"I love you." 

Silence. Jimin hadn't expected a response, and so started to drift off to sleep without saying anything else, but Taehyung was sitting up, getting on one forearm and looking down at him, eyes dark and wide and wet. 

"I think I love you too," he whispered, and Jimin smiled up at him, tucked back a lock of his wild hair. 

 


	10. Hyunseung.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> life likes to kick the shit out of hyunseung, but this time he's got someone to help him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains violence and drug-related assault.  
> (also, for those of you that don't know! jaesoon is junhyung's real name!)

Prison hadn't been kind to Hyunseung. He'd been a skinny seventeen year old, scrappy and defensive when he'd gone through the metal doors of the system he'd managed to avoid for his whole life— because his sister lied, because she loved her vile, abusive boyfriend more than she loved her brother.

He went through the doors and when he'd been let out again, no one was waiting for him. Not his parents, not Hyuna. He'd been given the name of his parole officer, the money he'd managed to earn in prison, and a “good luck.”

At least the trailer was clean. His parents left it for him before they moved, and his bike was still chained up on the front porch, carefully maintained. He hadn't cried until he realized his bed had been moved into his parent's old bedroom. That was when it finally struck him: he was really, truly alone. The electric and heating bills had already been transferred to his name and paid through the end of the month, the letter from his parents said. Same for the park fee. After that there would be bills to pay and essentials to buy, but at least he had somewhere to live. That made him a lot luckier than some.

His parole officer helped him get his job down at the warehouses, loading and unloading and shelving and unshelving. He biked there every day, grateful for the exercise time he'd had for the last five years. He'd entered prison soft and come out hard, in more ways than one.

But he still woke up to the same old nightmare— Hyuna, looking down at him from the witness's stand, her eyes cold as she lied. _He attacked him for no reason. We were just laying there in the bedroom and Hyunseung attacked him._

~

It was Jaehwan who came by the house first, just a few weeks after he'd gotten home. He'd gotten so tall, so handsome, and Hyunseung couldn't help but smile. Jaehwan seemed thrilled to see him, giving him a tight hug and puffing out his chest as he said he'd gotten into Advanced Choir, and he was the only freshman who did! It made Hyunseung feel very old, it reminded him of just how much he'd fucking missed while he'd been trapped behind bars. Regardless, he smiled just like he used to, said he was proud and promised to come to as many concerts as he could.

“I'm glad you're back,” Jaehwan said.

“I'm glad too,” Hyunseung lied.

It took six months for his old dealer to swing by. He was still handsome and still so charismatic. He'd been exactly how Hyunseung remembered him and that made his head hurt because he knew time had passed, but not in this way. There were always dealers. There were always addicts. He was an addict. Even in prison he'd been able to get drugs, tablets and injections in dark rooms exchanged for sex or cigarettes. Out here, just like in there, he was weak. He let Seunghyun fuck him against the kitchen counter for a bag of weed, for a few moments of pretending someone gave a shit that he was alive. It was a lie, but it was a good one. Seunghyun kissed his shoulders and held his chest up, Seunghyun fucked him hard and slow and carried Hyunseung to the bedroom when he was done with him. He'd always cared a little too much, but not enough to stick around. Not enough to change. Just enough to give a warning.

“Jiyong's been asking about you,” he'd said as he lit a cigarette and looked over at the other man, gaze hard.

“Don't tell him where I am.” Not that it mattered, Hyunseung was sure.

“He'll find you eventually.”

“...I'll deal with that when he does.”

~

The next day Hyunseung's parole officer came by, and Hyunseung offered him out the bag of marijuana, his lips bitten red and swollen. He'd spent the last eighteen hours panicking, staring at the bag on his coffee table (his parent's coffee table) and wringing his hands, wanting to pack a pipe and wanting to flush down the drain and not doing anything at all, instead. “I didn't smoke any,” he rushed to explain, his hair hanging in his eyes. “I'll take a blood test, I'll do anything, please, just don't—”

The man had spent nearly a half an hour trying to reassure and calm him. He'd taken the marijuana and told Hyunseung in quiet confidence that he'd done the right thing, and he wasn't going to get in trouble.

When he left, Hyunseung smoked a cigarillo on his front porch, and waved to the kids as they walked home from the bus stop. Only a few of them waved back, (Jaehwan, Hakyeon, Taekwoon—god, when had they all gotten so tall?) but still. It made him feel human.

~

Jiyong had been Hyunseungs...Partner in crime since they were old enough to hang out together after school. They'd been fuck buddies, they drank together, smoked together, shot up together. Hyunseung hadn't wanted to see him when he got out. He didn't want to fall back into drugs, didn't want to fall back into the hole he'd spent the last five years struggling to crawl out of. He didn't have access to the harder drugs out here, not easily, not in exchange for something as cheap as sex— he wasn't going to do them, he wouldn't let himself. After the initial encounter with Seunghyun he hadn't sought him out and he was sure... He was sure he'd be okay. He didn't drink, he only smoked because it eased his nerves. He'd be okay.

But then Jiyong showed up at his house and he looked as beautiful as he'd always been, panther-lean and predatory. His eyes were dark and his hands were warm as he touched Hyunseung's cheek, his neck, the delicate curve of his ribs beneath his t-shirt. Hyunseung would have given anything for the willpower to close the door.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it, he was weak, and before he really knew what was happening, Jiyong had practically moved in with him. He found himself in the same situation he'd been in when he was sixteen, with Jiyong shoving him around and making demands, pinning him down for sex and not letting Hyunseung get a word in edgewise.

Hyunseung was... He okay with that. He liked being told what to do, worked best with explicit instructions and Jiyong gave him that. Jiyong started bringing his booze and his drugs with him and Hyungseung—Hyunseung said nothing, silently condoning it, allowing Jiyong to get fucked up in his house while refusing to get fucked up himself.

~

Hyunseung had to struggle to keep from laughing in self-deprecation the second time Jaehwan came to him for relationship advice. Like he was one to fucking talk, but he did his best to seem... Wise, or whatever it was Jaehwan needed to help him through his emotional turmoil. Hyunseung had never experienced much of that. He was a creature of feeling. Feeling good, feeling safe, feeling dangerous, feeling in control. Jaehwan was very, very different.

“I don't know what to tell you, kid,” Hyunseung said, sitting on his front porch with his cheek pressed into the tops of his knuckles, looking thoughtful and just feeling vaguely worried and confused. “It all sounds... Pretty intense, if you ask me. Have you talked to him?”

“Not since I yelled at him,” Jaehwan muttered, and Hyunseung laughed, tucking his chin into his palm and speaking against his fingers..

“Well. I think you need to try again. Maybe with less yelling. Go somewhere private, where the two of you can talk and just don't...” he paused and wondered if this was the _right_ thing to say, even though it was the _smart_ thing to say. “Don't let your temper get the better of you, okay? Cos if you lose your shit, he's gonna lose his shit, and then it's all gonna be fucked up forever, you know?”

“Mm.”

“Go on, scram. Do it on a Friday, though,” he said, as one last piece of advice while trying not to smirk because he knew Jaehwan was going to blush like a kid like he always did at the mention of anything vaguely... Adult. “That way if the two of you manage to work it out, you have all weekend to fuck it out of your systems.”

“Hyunseung!” Jaehwan flushed deeply and Hyunseung laughed, getting up and reaching to ash his cigarette over into the coffee can. As Jaehwan stood and turned back, Hyunseung heard and felt the door creaking open, the boards of the porch shifting as it did so. He swallowed hard and put his cigarette back in his mouth, wishing Jaehwan didn't have to see what he knew was there. Jiyong, dark-eyed and vicious, hands like claws, waiting.

“See you later, kid,” Hyunseung said, and Jaehwan nodded at him, slowly backing away before turning. Hyunseung gasped in surprise when Jiyong dragged him inside, bullying him against the door, taking his cigarette from his lips and biting at his neck.

“Who was that,” he asked, hard and demanding against Hyunseung's chest.

“Neighborhood kid,” he replied, tilting his head back like he always did when Jiyong bared his teeth. “No one you have to worry about.”

“Mmm.”

~

When Jiyong brought heroin into his house, Hyunseung hated him more than anything. Wanted him out, wanted him _gone,_ no matter how good the sex was and _fuck_ it was so good but it wasn't worth prison, it wasn't worth being back behind bars; but Jiyong grabbed him by the jaw, hooked two fingers behind Hyunseung's teeth and under his tongue and suddenly Hyunseung's only motivation was fear. Fear and pain. He wanted it to not hurt. He wanted to not be afraid.

“Don't snitch,” he'd hissed, holding up the needle and god, Hyunseung wanted it, fucking vibrated with need and it was so hard to just nod, to nod and walk down the hall into the bedroom (a different kind of prison now) and close the door. His parole officer came by once a month or so, but Jiyong always managed to never be around. Hyunseung wanted to get fucked up, but he didn't want to take the fall for Jiyong's shit in the corners of his house. He didn't want to go back to the dark cement and strangers.

So he started avoiding his house. He spent nights with the people he knew he could trust, people he worked with, people who lived in the park who knew him... Before. Kids whose parents had known Hyunseung before, and had no problem with giving him a sleeping bag on the living room floor for a night or two.

No one asked him any questions.

Hyunseung told no lies.

~

Yong Jaesoon had a trailer on the other end of the park and it was there Hyunseung found himself one October night, knocking quietly on the door. Jaesoon had known Hyunseung, before. They were the same age. They'd been... Almosts. Almost boyfriends, almost roommates, almost a lot of things. If Jiyong hadn't come into the picture when he had, Hyunseung's life... Might have been very different. If Jiyong hadn't spent so much time making sure Hyunseung was his, his alone, his and no one elses, Hyunseung and Jaesoon might have stayed friends instead of losing one another the way they had, communication dropped, eye contact lost and then prison, the time between them stretched thin but Jaesoon had always welcomed Hyunseung before and if Hyunseung was lucky, Jaesoon still lived in this trailer and would welcome him now.

_Please, please, please. I don't want to go home._

Hyunseung hadn't known what to expect when the door opened but he hadn't expected Jaesoon to have grown so tall, for his shoulders to be so broad. He certainly hadn't expected Jaesoon to smile in that tender, weird way he'd always had and open the door without even asking why Hyunseung was there.

“Come in.”

“I,” Hyunseung started.

“Come on,” Jaesoon insisted with great gentleness. “It's cold and you're going to let my cat out.”

Hyunseung stepped inside and Jaesoon closed the door. For a moment there was silence and then—

“How are you, Hyunseung?”

“I,” Hyunseung started, and swallowed hard. “I've. Been better.”

“You look like it,” Jaesoon said, moving back behind his kitchen counter, where he'd apparently been making himself a meal. At eleven at night. The television was tuned to a music station, and the sound of it drifted through the air like falling snow. “Are you hungry?”

Hyunseung fought not to squirm. He was intensely uncomfortable, standing there in Yong Jaesoon's living room with a big, long-haired black cat rubbing against his legs like he belonged there, like it wasn't a surprise to Jaesoon that he'd come to his house at eleven thirty at night, even though it should have been.

“...Yeah,” he replied, finally. It was too surreal and he was too tired to care. “Yeah, I'm. I'm hungry.”

“Well come eat, then.” Jaesoon smiled over at him and Hyunseung nodded, carefully getting out of his boots and rubbing the ears of the handsome cat at his feet.

~

Over the weeks, Hyunseung stopped going home at all.

He let Jiyong poison his house and he stayed with Jaesoon and Fish (the cat, who liked no place better than the top of Hyunseung's bony chest as he laid in the spare bed.) His parole officer was coming around less those days—he didn't think it was too much to worry about. He felt safe at Jaesoon's place, and Jaesoon... Didn't seem to mind him there. They'd picked up where they'd left off as teenagers, with a pleasant tension stretched out between them. It made Hyunseung feel weird, in a good way. A very good way, like he was being watched out for.

“Jaesoon?” Hyunseung asked one late night—early morning, really.

“Mm,” Jaesoon replied from where he reclined on the couch, a book in his lap. “What is it.”

“Why... Haven't you asked?”

Jaesoon set the book down in his lap and turned to look at Hyunseung, who had to resist the urge to flinch. Jaesoon's gaze was intense, hooded and dark. “If you wanted me to know, you'd tell me, wouldn't you? If you wanted me to know what happened, why you didn't come to see me when you got back, why you're here now, you'd tell me.”

Hyunseung felt guilty, and nodded.

“Then I don't need to ask,” he said, and Hyunseung wanted to cry. He didn't deserve Jaesoon's trust.

He was so grateful he had it.

~

“You haven't been home in weeks,” Jiyong murmured, and Hyunseung's hair stood on end. He'd been walking his bike to Jaesoon's place in the dark between streetlights when Jiyong came out of the shadows like some kind of cartoon villain. “Where you been, babe.”

“At,” Hyunseung started, his throat very dry. “At a friend's house.”

“Why,” Jiyong asked, and his arm looped around Hyunseung's belly. Hyunseung's breathing picked up. He was afraid. He hadn't been so afraid since his first night in prison, when his cellmate had grabbed him just like this and pulled him back, promised not to hurt him if he didn't make a fucking sound.

“I don't,” he started, and Jiyong snapped his teeth at his ear. “I don't want to go back to prison.”

“Why would you go back to prison for coming home, Hyunseung,” Jiyong asked, and Hyunseung wished more than anything that he had a car, that he could get the will to run away, that he wasn't so fucking weak and scared. “No one's going to get you in trouble for living in your house.”

“You're going to get me in trouble,” Hyunseung breathed, and Jiyong jerked him around. His bike clattered to the ground and Jiyong's arm reached, his hand clawed in Hyunseung's hair and dragged him down for a kiss. It was brutal, hard and mostly teeth and it made Hyunseung squeak in fear and pain.

“You've never complained about me getting you into trouble before,” he said, and Hyunseung shook his head, tried to pull away.

“Let go,” he said, breathless. “Let go of me, Jiyong, let go.”

“Make me,” Jiyong hissed, his hand in Hyunseung's hair tightening.

“Let go of me, I'll scream—”

“Will you?” Jiyong smiled and his left hand came up. He was holding a short-tipped hypodermic needle and Hyunseung panicked, trying to shove away, eyes wide, breath short.

“Let go of me, let go—let go don't you fucking touch me with that don't you _fucking dare_ —”

The needle hit the middle of Hyunseung's right elbow. It stabbed into the muscle and Hyunseung shrieked, shoving away from Jiyong with so much force that he hit the ground, falling over his bike and scrabbling to get the needle out of him where it was fucking dangling, trapped in his tensed musculature, bent painfully.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Jiyong snarled, and from the house they were standing in front of, the sound of a young man shouting cut the night in half.

“I'm calling the cops!!”

Like a gun had been shot off Jiyong was gone, and Hyunseung was left struggling, trying to get up, crying because it hurt, his leg was caught in his bike and _fuck_ his _arm_. The boy who had shouted— he couldn't have been older than fourteen, with wild blonde hair and a cell phone in his hand, came out to see if he was okay.

“I dunno they were fighting and they—hold on hold on—there's a needle in him, there's a needle in his arm, it's just hanging there—yeah, yeah that's—okay, okay thank you, thanks,” he held the phone with one hand and reached for Hyunseung with the other, holding his shoulder. “Hey, hey stop moving—you're gonna make it worse, hold on, help's coming okay?”

“Jaesoon,” Hyunseung slurred. Everything hurt and Jiyong had missed his vein but he'd still pressed down on the needle and there was heroin in him, there was heroin in him and he was so afraid and he wanted Jaesoon—

“Yong Jaesoon?” the boy asked, and Hyunseung nodded from where he laid, prone on the ground. “I'll, I'll go get him, hold on, don't move, the cops are coming, they'll bring an ambulance okay? Just stay there, don't move—” The boy took off down the road and Hyunseung stared up at the sky, the streetlight bright in the far corner of his vision as he cried, his leg awkwardly twisted, his ankle throbbing and his arm going numb. Oh god, what if Jiyong'd hit a nerve, what if he was paralyzed, _oh no_.

“Hyunseung,” Jaesoon's breathless voice and Hyunseung sobbed.

“Hurts, it hurts, Jaesoon—”

“It's okay,” Jaesoon said, his bearing stable as he carefully pulled Hyunseung's ankle out from between the bars of the bike frame, very delicately putting his leg down before moving to cradle his head. “Hey, hey, Hyunseung it's okay,” he reached to hold Hyunseung's hand and Hyunseung squeezed, squeezed so hard it had to hurt but he didn't let go, just held on and smoothed his hair and murmured nonsense until the sound of sirens was too loud to ignore.

Hyunseung struggled when the EMTs tried to pull him from Jaesoon's grip. “No,” he said, eyes rolling, his hand still bone-crushingly tight. “ _No_.”

“Hyunseung, baby, you've got to go with them,”

“No,” he hissed, shaking his head violently. “No, not— not alone—”

“I'll take my car, okay? I'll be right behind you.”

“Promise,” he gasped, slowly loosening his hand.

“I promise,” Jaesoon said, and Hyunseung let go, let himself be taken away.

~

The hospital was awful. Hyunseung cried the entire time: when they set his ankle, as they carefully maneuvered the needle out of his muscles and pressed a warming pad to it, to try and reduce the damage, reduce the risk of infection. He had no idea if the needle was clean, he had no idea where Jiyong had gotten it, and he told them that, babbled in panic until Jaesoon was let in to see him.

“I called your parole officer,” Jaesoon said as he sat down in the chair beside his bed, smoothed back his bangs. “He said they'll check your house to see if he's still there.”

“No,” Hyunseung whispered. “It's— they're gonna think I—”

“I also told him,” Jaesoon cut him off, the soft backs of his fingers on Hyunseung's cheek. “That you've been living with me. Jiyong must have cancelled his lease in wherever he was living before, people have seen him in the park, at your house. Bobby and Juno must have seen him. It'll be okay.”

“I'm fucked up,” Hyunseung whispered, turning his head to look at Jaesoon and whimpering at the way the shadows behind him seemed to move and reach and claw around him. “I want to go home.”

“We can go home once you come down, okay? I'll take you home then.” Jaesoon's hand was so soft, cupping the side of his face and Hyunseung looked at him, forced himself to look away from the shadows and look at Jaesoon, who was smiling down at him, sitting beside him as he laid in a hospital bed. He had no idea why, not really.

“Promise,” he heard himself ask, and Jaesoon nodded, took his hand to kiss his knuckles.

“I promise.”

~

Hyunseung woke up in Jaesoon's king bed, instead of the twin in the spare bedroom, and sighed. He'd been back from the hospital for three days and he'd been falling asleep on the couch, and Jaesoon had been carrying him into the bedroom, tucking him in and sleeping in the twin bed. He didn't like it.

He forced himself up and out of the very comfortable bed and made his way to the spare bedroom. There Jaesoon was, asleep in the early morning sun. It striped across his back from the spaces between the cheap blinds and lit up his dark hair, a soft brown-gold halo around his darkened face. Hyunseung swallowed hard, and walked to the bed, getting up onto it and crawling under the sheets to press against Jaesoon's back. Jaesoon grumbled and shifted, turning to squint down at him.

“Mm?”

“...S'cold,” he lied, and Jaesoon let out a short burst of laughter, making a humming noise and moving so Hyunseung could press to his chest instead.

“Mm. C'mere then.”

He did. Hyunseung slipped into that space and pressed his face to Jaesoon's chest, just as bony as his own, and felt safer, more at home in that twin bed in that small bedroom than he had in months, maybe years. Jaesoon's hand was sliding through his hair, his breath was soft against his scalp and Hyunseung... Hyunseung felt very small, and very loved.

~

“What?”

Hyunseung swallowed, felt... Grossly faint, if he was honest. Like he was going to pass out. That kind of light headed. He opened his mouth to speak again.

“I... Thought maybe. You could move in with me. In my house. It's, it's bigger than yours, and I— I mean you can have your own bedroom but I just— there's more sun there and Bobby and Juno aren't bad neighbors and—”

“Hyunseung.”

“—yeah?”

Jaesoon was smiling up at him from where he sat in his computer chair, slightly reclined. He tilted his head just so and Hyunseung felt his heart tighten unpleasantly.

“I'd like that a lot.”

“Y. You would? Really?”

“I promise,” he said, and Hyunseung felt something that had been pulling tight inside of him start to unwind.

“Oh,” he said intelligently.

“Come here,” Jaesoon laughed, and Hyunseung let himself be dragged down into Jaesoon's lap and kissed.

~

Jaesoon's trailer sold very quickly. He was even there to give the keys to the new owners, a short young man and a small young woman, very pregnant and nearly glowing. They introduced themselves as Jackson and Youngji Wang, married four months prior. “I'm so glad,” Youngji said, smiling happily. “We didn't want to have to move out of the park, since all of our friends are here.”

“I'm glad it worked out,” Jaesoon said, covering for Hyunseung's awkward discomfort and waving goodbye to the couple, who apparently had friends coming to help them get unloaded. It allowed Jaesoon and Hyunseung to start the walk back to— to their house. They had paid to have the entire house cleaned from top to bottom, and Hyunseung paid for a new countertop, and Jaesoon bought the materials to screen in and cover the porch so they could sit without the bugs or the rain interrupting them.

Bobby and Juno came to help them move furniture, and Hyunseung silently marveled at how they worked together, at how the two of them moved around and with one another instead of clashing. It was incredible, especially when he thought about the last time he'd seen them. Juno was still covered in bruises, but it didn't seem like brutality had caused any of them.

He'd been holding Bobby's hand when they walked back to their own house, bickering about what they were having for dinner even as they walked in the door, and Jaesoon chuckled.

“They're really into one another, huh?” he asked, and Hyunseung nodded, pursing his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Not as into one another as we are, right?” Jaesoon waggled his eyebrows and Hyunseung just laughed, wrapping his fingers up in Jaesoon's hair and kissing him until he was lightheaded.

“Definitely not.”

 


End file.
